BATTLESTAR CONFIDENTIAL
by Sam StarEagle
Summary: Private Investigator Lee Adama's life is about to get complicated thanks to dark characters and ghosts from his past when a mysterious blonde walks into his office with secrets to die for. BSG Noir...VERY AU...VERY FUN...
1. Hell's not a place

_They say this town's gone to hell._

_Maybe…_

_At least that's what people want to believe. That hell's a location, a place on the map. Somewhere that, if you use whatever wits or luck that you have, take a chance, that maybe, just maybe, you can buy a ticket out of here. Go some place new, bright and cheery where the sun's not blotted out by the clouds, the happy sounds of children playing aren't drowned out by the haunting echoes of sirens. Somewhere where all you feel is the warmth of the sun, the cool breeze and summer showers…_

_Maybe…_

_But hell's not a place on the map. It's where you already are. It's the first thing you see in the mirror each morning, a fading specter that follows you around where ever you go, a swirling fog that surrounds you in darkness…_

_It's the lie that keeps us going, the idea that "happily ever after" is just a roll of the dice away. It's the one reason why we fool ourselves into pretending that any of our sad, lonely lives are worth waking up to day after day._

_Works well enough for most people…_

_But the saddest among us, the ones that run from the light, the ones that embrace the darkness…_

_They're the ones that can't believe the lie anymore._

_My name's Romo Lampkin. And this isn't about me…_

* * *

My grandfather always used to tell me _"Be a good boy Lee… just not too good."_

For most of my life, I thought he was joking. But I did take his advice. The first part at least… Studied hard, worked my ass off. First in my class, scholarships from all the best universities… Free ride… Worked even harder. Got a good job in the city attorney's office, just worked harder… I had a wife, promotions, good name. Fast track to the top…

A lot it got me in the end…

Second floor, second office to the right, name's on the door. Lee Adama, Private Investigator.

The sounds from the street below bounce through the forest of concrete, metal and glass outside. Car horns and voices fill the hot humid air. The afternoon sun's breaking through the clouds. Beams of light cut their way through blue smoke, lazily tracing their way across the faded photos hanging crooked on the walls. The only sounds coming from inside are the fan sweeping it's way across stacks of old news papers, and as always, the gentle tapings of Maggie typing just outside my door. Just the usual paperwork, bills, alimony papers… Slow day.

Slow week really. Not a real client to speak of. Only the usual deadbeat husband, run away wife... Just enough to keep me in a rundown office on the wrong side of town for a few weeks more. Most of it went to my wife. Ex-wife to be accurate. Wasn't like she needed it. For what I'd heard, she was doing better than ever. New guy from the mayor's office was making sure of that. Poor naïve bastard… No idea what he's gettin himself into.

Only news worth reading about was the playoffs. Picon Panthers versus the C-Bucks with the C-Bucks taking the early lead. Good action in the first game. C-Bucks did pretty well for themselves, considering they were missing their star player. Rotor cuff injury they said. Funny thing was nobody had heard a word from Sam Anders for nearly two weeks. Well deserved rest, private therapy they said. Something wasn't right about that.

On the other side of page one, the big news that everybody was talking about.

**Tom Zarek Walks**

After five years, Zarek was out. Would have been fifty years… I guess they could blame me for that.

Lurking on the bottom of the page like a snake was the latest on Mayor Baltar's reelection plans. Lots of talk, very little change. Big surprise. Guy knew how to look good for the camera though… of course he was the one that hired the photographer.

It wasn't that I was looking forward to getting out of the office. I just needed a change of scenery. Maybe stop in for a while at Joe's, drown away the world again. Nothing to look forward to but another lonely night…

What the frak… might as well start early…

I open the bottom drawer of my desk and pull out an old bottle and a clean glass. Cheap stuff. It's good enough for now. Maggie tells me it worries her that her boss thinks this is a good way to pass the day. Tells me I ought to get out, meet new people. Whatever… She's not my doctor. And I don't listen to him either.

A door opens. Maggie stops her typing. Door closes. Indistinct voices… Better not be another summons…

The P.A. on my desk buzzes to life. It's a quarter till 5. My hand puts down the near empty bottle and heavy glass and reaches across the desk. I push down the cold metal P.A. switch "Yeah, Maggie?"

"Someone to see you, Lee. She says it's important."

"Send her in."

"_Important"_… Can't be that important… Everybody thinks it is. Everybody walks through that door thinking the whole world's about to crash in on them, walk out thinking they've been granted a reprieve from the Gods… or not. Some things even I won't do. Everybody needs an answer; need a way out, need to see that light on the horizon. Lot of good it does em'. In the end, it doesn't really mater if they get an answer or not. I've cracked a lot of cases, gave up on just as many. Funny thing is… whether they walk away a winner or a loser… world just keeps turning. Same as always…

Best I can do is roll the dice, hope for the best.

Soft footsteps. A silhouette of a woman on the frosted glass of my door… She stops. Is she hesitating? The soft shadow shifts her feet ever so slightly. Is it really that important? Her head bows. She takes in a deep breath. She must need it. Am I the first she's gone too? Am I the last? Was the fact that my name's first in the book what brought her here? Or is it something else? A deeper reason maybe? Maybe this is important… The knob spins, door creaks like a violin.

I pull myself up in my chair, slide the bottom drawer closed.

There she is.


	2. Turquoise satin

Short blonde in turquoise satin. Statuesque like a goddess. Strong lines, soft skin. Those lips… must taste like sweet ambrosia. Sad eyes, needing, wanting… She knows why she's here, what she wants. But she really doesn't. She's lost. She'll never admit it. A real fighter… _My kind of woman…_

It's written all over her face.

"Come in. Have a seat, Ms….?"

"Mrs. And thank you."

That voice… smooth and strong… "Mrs."? No ring. Interesting…

The door closes behind her. We're alone.

She moves with the grace of a cat. Takes her time. Gets the lay of the place. Stays in the shadows. She notices one of the dusty photographs on the wall. She moves toward it and takes a second look back at me, "Is that you?"

"That's me."

"And you're in a place like this?"

Sharp. Not more than a few moments and she's already on to me.

"Long story…"

Tight gaze in my direction. The slyest of grins curls across her full, ruby lips. "I'll bet it is."

I can't help but smile back. She's got me. "But you're not here to talk about that." I say defensively.

"I wasn't…" There's that cocky grin again. Her eyes twinkle. Like I said… _My kind of woman…_

I try to clear my throat, break the tension. "Mind if we get down to business, Mrs.…?"

"Thrace. Kara Thrace. Let's do…"

* * *

She slinks back out of the shadows, smoky shafts of light caressing her body. Cool blue against searing gold. A slim hand reaches out, fingertips slide across the deep red leather of the couch opposite my desk. She flows down into it, like a stream after a storm. She lounges, props an arm on the side and rests her head on her down turned hand. Her fingers dangle playfully before curling into a tight fist.

"So what brings you here Mrs. Thrace?"

"It's about my husband."

Divorced maybe? Why keep the "Mrs."?

"What about him?"

"He's missing. I want to know where he is."

"Do you have any idea where he might be?"

"Several…" No hesitation there… even more interesting. "Nothing… he's just vanished."

"If you don't mind my asking…" Here it comes. She knows it. "Married… happily?"

A fierce glare cuts across the room. "And what would that mean, Mr. Adama? _"Happily"_?

No fooling this one. "Well," I start to ask, shifting uncomfortably "does he… run around?"

Straight face. "Yes. And yes, we're happy."

"It's just a normal question in cases like this…" I try to explain.

"And why would that be, Mr. Adama? Is that supposed to mean anything? Explain anything? My husband runs around, so that means that we're not happy?"

"Usually."

"And what about you?" Her eye's on the small glint of gold lying on my desk. Why the hell don't I just get rid of it? Not like I'm ever gonna' wear it again… "Are you happy, Mr. Adama?"

I try to hide a scowl. My teeth clinch. "Divorced, if you must know."

"Did you run around on each other?"

"No."

"Normal question…" she smirks, her eyes aflame.

_Gods… what a woman…_

Snap out of it Lee. You're the one asking the questions. "So… no problems then…"

"Only from me.", she looks off into the distance, a sour expression scrawled across her form. A contrite grin snaps back in my direction. "But then again, he's used to that."

I'll bet he is… Business, Lee. Business…

"So how long has he been missing?"

"It'll be two weeks tomorrow."

"Have you contacted the police about any of this?" I ask.

"And why would I do that, Mr. Adama?" she replies, straight and steady.

"It's what people normally do when something like this happens."

"Let's just say…" her gaze, seductive, serious, more mysterious than ever, "The more privacy I can have about my life, the happier I am."

"I understand." No I don't. Not sure I want to know. Even though I do…

"Well what was the last place and time that you saw him, Mrs. Thrace?"

"At home. About 7 in the morning."

"And?"

"He said he was going out. Didn't tell me where."

"Anything about when he said he'd be back?"

"Just his usual response… "Later"…" she says sarcastically.

Whoever these people are, one thing's for sure. They have a "unique" approach to marriage vows. Not that I'm criticizing. Not like I can…

"Have you heard anything back from him? Phone calls? Letters?"

"Nope. Not a word. Just gone."

"Well I have to ask this…" I'm really prying now. Whatever… It's my job. "Has… he ever done anything like this before? Disappeared for a long stretch of time without telling you anything about where he was?

She knew I was going to ask that. Already knew what to say. "Yes… but only after I've told him to."

I try to not look intrigued. It's not working. Who is this woman, staring back at me, eyes so full of secrets? Just what really brings her here?

"And, I'm assuming this isn't one of those times…" I continue.

"No. It's different. He has something of mine. I'd like it back Mr. Adama."

"He stole something from you?" Now she's talking. Couldn't have only been because of the husband. She's not that kind of woman.

"In a manner of speaking…" Her voice stays calm, hushed. She's not going to say anything unless I can figure out myself.

"Valuables?"

"Valuable to me." Cold. Angry too… "Precious actually." This is important.

"I wouldn't be going too far in asking you what it is, would I?"

"Who _she_ is, you mean…"

_She? _I knew there was a catch… Always is…

"She? As in…" I can already see where this is going. A dark alley, the kind you don't go down on a sunny day, let alone at night… You don't want to do this Lee…

"As in my daughter. My daughter's missing, Mr. Adama. I want to know where she is."


	3. Not on the level

"And you can assure me you haven't gone to the police?"

"I prefer my privacy, Mr. Adama. I thought I told you that." Her voice cool, controlled, desperate. What is she hiding?

"From what you've already told me, can I take a wild guess that your husband disappeared the same day your daughter did?"

"You catch on quick." Her tone seethes with seduction. Her arms cross ever so smoothly in her lap. Holding me with her eyes. "I knew I came to the right guy."

This isn't right. _2 weeks_? Who doesn't call the police after something like that happens? Too many questions. This is a bad idea, Lee…

"If you don't mind my saying so, Mrs. Thrace… You don't come off as being too worried for her safety."

"That's because I know she's with Sam. He'd never hurt her."

_Sam_. Must be the husband…

"Are you sure? Seems like an odd thing to do, a man walks off one day with his daughter, doesn't bother to even make a phone call… Can you see why this seems strange, Mrs. Thrace?"

"Yes. And I also know if she's with him, she's okay." Quicker than usual on that one. Touchy. I'm finally getting somewhere.

"Do you know if there's anyone that might want to harm you? Harm your husband, daughter?"

"The only people that would want to harm me, Mr. Adama, would be almost everyone else that's ever met me… I doubt if that helps you any though." Smirking smile tracing it's way back across her lips.

"Not much…" Smiling back… Stop it, Lee. It's _Mrs._, remember?

"Then what about your husband? Any big debts? Does he ever talk about money?"

"None that I would know about. But then, they'd have to be pretty big. Money's not a concern for me. I hope you're taking this into consideration."

Her husband might not gamble, but she does. Knows how to bait the deal, play the game.

"In most cases like this, domestic cases, this would fall under the jurisdiction of the courts. You don't wait around for two weeks and hire a private investigator to try and find them…"

"If I'd been able to find her myself, Mr. Adama, I would have never walked into your office." She has been busy. Of course she has. Type that never asks for help… never wants it, never lets down her defenses. She is in trouble. I'm about to be myself. "I need your help, Mr. Adama. Do I have it?"

Burning glare, I feel the heat dance it's way through me, pulse it's way inside of me, run through my veins. Think about this, Lee. This is all wrong. Nothing adds up. Bad idea…

Play it safe, Lee.

"I'm not sure I can help you, Mrs. Thrace. In my line of work, I have to be careful about what clients I choose to work for. Pick the wrong one; it's my head they come after. I don't think I'm the one that can help you."

Anyone else would fight back, break down, and tell me how desperate they were, at least tell me go to hell…. prove to me that I'm right. Not her. She doesn't break, doesn't flinch. She walked in knowing exactly what she wanted. And she knows she'll get it.

"Perhaps you'd reconsider…" She floats up, sways back and forth, feet barely touching the ground as she makes her way towards me. She looks taller now, well practiced triad face hiding whatever other thoughts she might be having. This is business. A hand reaches up; slim fingers run down her chest, slipping down underneath the silky fabric, sliding past silkier skin…

_Gods, I haven't had a good lay since…_

She's holding something, small, octagonal, clean white. She lays it down in front of me. I look up at her, eyes scorching, fading light slipping over the sharp curves of her face, grinning back at me.

"So what's this?" I ask, picking up the letter. Still warm…

"Everything you need to know…" her words hushed, slow, "…to make the right choice."

She turns, starts to leave. I watch the turquoise fabric flow back through the smoky shadows towards the white glow of the frosted glass door. The knob clicks, a slender blade of light arcs across the wall.

I get up, feet firm on the cold floor. "Wait a minute, I haven't even…"

She stops. Her head cocks to the side slightly, not quite turning back in my direction. "Think about it, Mr. Adama. It's what you seem best at."

The door opens wide. I watch her body move under blue satin. Door closes. Footsteps. No hesitation this time. Front door opens, clicks shut.

I take in a deep breath. I need it. My hand picks up the small letter, tears it open. A yellow check. Made out to full, Mr. Lee Adama, 10,000.

And a photo. Pocket size, small crease on the corner. A little girl, couldn't be more than two. Curly blonde hair, blue eyes, sweet smile. Writing on the back. A phone number, local. And a name…

Kacey Anders.


	4. Play it safe Lee

It's just after 5. Blinds are closed; fan's spiraling to a stop. Outside, the sun's setting behind the skyline. Inside, the roar of rush hour traffic below echoes through the darkness. Nothing else to do. I do my usual waltz around the office, stow everything away for the weekend. My feet point their way to the door. I stop. Feel like I forgot something. Gods, not again…

_Just leave it, Lee._

_Damn it, let it go…_

_**FRAK…**_

My hand finds it's way back to the desktop, finds the thing I wish I could lose. I pick it up. It's shiny like fire, cold like steel.

Put it away, Lee.

I go around to the back of my desk, pull open the bottom drawer, let it drop, hear the 'plink' of gold against glass. Bull's-eye. Right where it belongs… bottom of the glass. Right down there with me.

I lock up the door to my office behind me.

My secretary, Maggie's just finishing up for the day. Jet black hair hanging softly over deep brown eyes. Slinky black off-the-shoulder number. Classy. Perfume? Must have a date… At least one of us has a life.

"So we got a client, Lee?" Maggie asks, looking up at me from her desk, lonely, anxious eyes.

Good question, Lee…

"Maybe."

"Maybe." she replies, sympathetic smirk glaring back at me. "Wish I could tell my landlord that the next time he asks if he's gonna' get his check on time."

I smile. She's good at making people smile… one of many reasons why I hired her.

"It's…complicated."

"What else is new…" she replies, not looking back, pulls together the loose stacks of forms, shoves them away in the file cabinet. She's got other things on her mind. So do I…

I reach for my grey jacket, hanging wrinkled on the coat rack. My mind wanders back to her… Bad idea, Lee… Frak that. I have to know.

"Maggie, that woman that came in just now… did she call earlier?"

"Like for an appointment?"

"Yeah."

"No. Never seen her before today. She just walked in, asked if you could see her."

"And she didn't leave anything to contact her later?"

"Nope. Walked out your door, didn't say a word. What did she want anyway? Or is that something I'm not allowed to know?"

"Not really sure…" I'm thinking out loud. It's alright, she's used to it. "Not sure I know."

She spins back around, gently sweeps her hair from her forehead. A more than quizzical look shoots back at me. "Really?"

She knows I'm hiding something from her. Always does…

"Tell ya' later, Racetrack…"

_Racetrack_… Not really sure how she got that name. Fits her though. Not really sure why. Met her on a bad day that got better real fast. Turned my luck around, broke the clouds up around me. Kind of girl you can trust a long bet on. Pulls you out of the fire when you're too stupid to do it yourself. Never afraid to offer you a hand up when everybody else has kicked you down the stairs… not afraid to kick your ass when you deserve it, either. She's my lucky charm. My Maggie. My Racetrack.

Don't know why the hell she stays with me…

I pull on my jacket, reach for my hat, try to let things go, think about something else. Anything else.

"Plans for the evening, huh Maggie?" my eyes affixed on her slim silver makeup case lying open on her desk. My turn to make her smile.

"Always keepin' your eye out for me, right boss?" she grins back.

"Just doin' my job…" I've known her long enough to see when she's got more important things on her mind than her cat. "So who is it?"

Straight glare, raised eyebrows. I've seen that look before…

"If you _must_ know, his name's Noel, he works for the police department, and he's a nice guy. Pretty sure you can trust him…"

"Never said I didn't trust _him_…"

She laughs, great laugh, happy. Kind of laugh that makes you feel like you're doing something right, that you're not just a dark cloud that everybody wants to get out from under. Gives you a break from all your worries, pretend everything's going to be alright.

"Anyway…" she continues, "they've got him working the night shift, so I've gotta' meet up with him as soon as I can get out of here. Anything else you need me to do, Lee?"

"No, you can lock up when you're done."

"Plans for the evening, huh boss?"

Wish she'd let it go…

"Just the usual…"

"You know boss…" _Gods damn it, Maggie, let it go…_ "Most people look forward to getting off work, going home to their families, friends…"

I don't look back at her. Don't need to. Already know what I'd see… same old sad eyes, naïve sympathy. Not in the mood for it.

"Must be nice…"

I straighten my hat, reach for the doorknob. "Have a great night, Racetrack." My palm grips cool, smooth metal…

"You too, Lee."

The door clicks shut, leather soles clap across the floor of broken black and white tiles. Chipped paint, scuffed sideboards, broken glass fixture lamp on the left. I turn the corner, wait for the elevator. This used to be a nice place, full of offices for respectable businesses; the kind's that you have to have a fancy piece of paper with your name written out in fancy script just to think about sweeping the floors for. Not anymore.

The elevator bell chimes, the heavy doors slide wide, cheap lights blink and flash the whole way down.

I step out into the front lobby; hear the rush of the crowds and cars outside. The revolving glass door spins, hot steam blasts through the roar of evening traffic. Kids are playing pyramid in the back alleys; street vendors are selling the evening's news. Everybody's in a hurry. Everybody's got somewhere they'd rather be.

All I want is to get away.

I hail a cab; wait for somebody to want to make an extra tip. Seven cars later, I finally get lucky.

"So where ya' headed?" Loud, raspy. Aerelon, you can always tell.

"Joe's Tavern, 33rd and 6th"

The door shuts; I settle in, watch the street lights flash by. I reach in my pocket; pull out the now torn, clean white envelope. I look down at the yellow check.

This can't be on the level.

I see her again. Curly blonde hair, blue eyes, sweet smile. She's smiling back at me.

Cute kid.

No way. Play it safe, Lee.

_Just play it safe…_


	5. Black sunglasses

I pull the door handle, my feet hit the pavement. I reach for my billfold, pull out a generous tip. He'll remember me. They always do. It pays to have friends that get around, hear things, see things… know things. One of several tricks I've picked up over the years.

An electric rainbow of neon light bathes the street. People move to and fro over the red brick sidewalk, pass by old, multi-storied buildings clad in smog stained whites, and fading yellow plaster. Black and white ironwork balconies overlook the mad rush below. The glow of orange and gold peaks out from behind the green and black shudders of the upstairs windows. There are a lot of stories on this street, a lot more behind those windows. Most of em' long and sad, depressing… sexy. The type of stories that make great cheap novels with bad titles that scare away all but the adventurous and the lonely. But they don't get written down; don't get watered down into a few words that make some desperate soul a quick cubit. Not those stories. They just stay here, floating on the heated night air, waiting to be retold over and over again by the sad echoes of slick music playing all the way till the dawn.

There's already a crowd inside as I step through the doorway, through the shiny glass and brass doors and into the rich reds and browns of my favorite dive. Has been since I was in law school. One of the few places left from those days where I can show my face anymore. Not really surprising… apart from the staff, I'm their best customer.

"Hey Lee, how's it goin'?"

"Same as always, Diana."

Diana's been working here for what seems like forever. Must feel like even longer to her. Probably never thought of this place as anymore than a foot in the door to better things. She's still waiting for it to open.

"Well we saved your seat for ya'…" she says, anxious to try and lift my spirits.

"Thanks." I make my way across the polished white marble floor and over to the bar, hear the smooth tones coming from the band on the other side of the room. Band's got a great sax player. Big guy, bald, quiet. Everybody's got their own name for him. Dragon, Salty, Fuzzy… nobody's really sure which one he prefers. He doesn't seem to mind. Just keeps playin'. I pull up a seat, let my muscles go slack. Conner's got his back to me, shaking up somebody's drink. He knows I'm here.

"How ya' been, Lee?" he asks, not so much as a glance in my direction.

"Can't really complain…"

"Well… who can? Aside from my ex-wife…"

I laugh. Why didn't I say that?

He spins around, hands off the drinks, turns my way. "So what'll I start ya' off with tonight?"

"_Start ya' off with…" _He's got me pegged. Seems like everybody does. Everybody but me…

"Caprica Black Gold."

"Comin' right up." He spins back around, reaches up for the thick amber glass bottle. "So how's Maggie doin'?"

He always has to ask about her. Poor guy can't take a hint. You'd think the constant _"Get losts" _would have been a dead give away…

"She's out with a new guy tonight. Seemed eager enough to get away for the night."

"Well remember to tell her if she wants a guy that'll treat her right, I'm right here." He says, grin on his face that would scare off any woman in her right mind.

"Isn't that the same thing you told me to tell your wife the last time she left you?"

"That's right, _she_ left _me_." he replies, pointing back at me, laughing. "Okay… One Caprica Black Gold."

"Sounds nice…" says a raspy voice behind me, "Think I'll have one too."

I look to my right, he sits down. Deep blue jacket, unbuttoned collar, rough shave. His cane hangs lightly on the countertop. He doesn't need it. Likes people to think he does. Likes people to think a lot of things. His eyes lock on to me from behind black sunglasses.


	6. What might have been

"Mr. Adama… what brings you here tonight?"

"I was about to ask you the same thing."

"Usual… long day in court, thought I'd stop in, have a drink."

"So can I assume you've got a plan to make another jury fall in love with your latest scum bag of a client, or have you already got em' off?"

"Not until next week…" he quips, "But this isn't about me."

I've heard that before. Bad news.

Conner brings his drink over. "Anything else you gentlemen need for now?"

"No, we're fine." responds the man to my right with an obnoxious glint in his eye.

Conner goes back to the other patrons. I'm stuck sitting next to a man I helped out a long time ago. Wish I hadn't now.

"Alright, cut the crap Romo, what's this really about?" I growl at him, fighting to keep my voice down.

"I thought you could use some company tonight, Mr. Adama. After what I read in the paper today, I was pretty sure you're mind would be on something other than tracking down bad husbands that skip out on their half of the grocery bill."

He pulls a waded up paper from his jacket pocket, hands it over to me quickly, out of sight. I look down at him; see a familiar face staring back at me. I glare back at Lampkin. So that's his game…

"I'll save you the trouble of asking. I already read it."

"Thought you had. Seems your friend Mr. Zarek has been hinting at some big plans for the future…"

"I don't give a damn about him, or _you_ for that matter, alright?!"

"Really?" Obvious glee in his voice. _Gods, does he have to sound that frakkin' happy about it?_

"Bet ya' probably wish you could have felt that way 5 years ago… you would have had the pleasure of seeing me humiliated, would have had the infamous Tom Zarek's head mounted as a trophy in your very own big, plush office, still would have been on the fast track to State Attorney… might even still be married. Well… guess it's not all bad."

Well he's right about one thing…

"I guess we all make mistakes."

I take a slow drink from my glass. The bright golden liquor sparkles in the dim light. Hard and dry. Hits the spot. Doesn't do what I want it to though… He's still there.

"Funny thing is… as much as you hate me, there's something that tears at your soul even more. Sure, you like to make everybody think that you feel sorry about it, that you spend every night wishing you could… go back, do things over. Take Tom Zarek down. Take me down. Be everybody's hero. But I know you, Mr. Adama."

"Is that a fact?" I smirk, taking less than a quick glance in his direction.

"It is." That same almost evil grin, same smug light reflecting off his dark lenses. "That's not what bothers you at all, tortures you…"

I take another long drink. Almost empty now. Don't encourage him. Play his same sick game again…

Not again, Lee…

"So what is?"

"It's because no matter how much you bleed, how many times you get kicked in the face… how many… people… get hurt… you still can't make yourself believe the lie."

"What lie?"

His expression changes. No games this time around. No clever twisting of the truth. I can always tell with him. Never do look forward to seeing it. Something about another man looking right down into your soul, pulling out everything you thought you were hiding from the world… tends to make a guy uneasy…

"The same lie that everybody wants you to believe, Mr. Adama. The lie that this whole town is built on. That you were wrong."

I don't look at him. Don't want him to see that he's right. Doesn't matter. He already sees it.

Just like everybody else can.

"After all, nobody made you do what you did. Nobody even asked you to. Hell, nobody even saw that little stunt of yours coming, most of all, _me_… and I take pride in being one step ahead of everyone else. Knowing… exactly what the next move is. One of my talents."

He's _right_. As much as my skin crawls from just being in the same room as him, the bastard's _right_.

Nobody did…

My hand grips the solid glass like a pyramid ball; knuckles go white, muscles tense… takes all my will power not to drive it into his smirking face.

"Let's get one thing perfectly clear. I didn't do that for you, or Zarek."

"Yeah, you did it for truth, and justice, and all those nice soliloquies that good boy scouts memorize so they can get medals pinned on their chest and walk around like they're really somebody."

"Somebody intuitive as you should already know that's not why I did it."

"Of course it's not, Mr. Adama. But it's what it was. A useless expression of one man's private faith that the law can do no wrong. What did it get you anyway? A lousy office, ex-wife hitting you up for money every week, destroyed reputation… I know what I got out of it. Nice law firm, big name, requests for interviews from all the best news rags every time there's a big trial that catches everybody's imagination… everybody wanting to know what Romo Lampkin's take on things is… And you should see how many smutty fan letters I get every week. Amazing stuff. Wouldn't believe the names I've gotten "propositions" from… And all the while, the world turns its back on the real hero, the real reason why I wasn't trampled by the powers of all things holy that day, and all's well that no one remembers that the man that stood up for justice that day is rotting away in some Gods' forsaken run down apartment, sitting in the dark, drinking himself into oblivion because he can't let himself ask _"What might have been?"_… What did you get out of it, Mr. Adama?"

I take in a deep breath, eyes low, jaw clinched, shoulders tense up. I just look down at my empty glass; listen to the smooth, happy tones from the band. People are slow dancing on the floor, holding on to each other, gazing into each other's eyes, dreaming about bright, shiny futures.

I don't know what the hell I'm doing here.

"Is there any real reason why you're here, Romo?"

He pulls himself back, smiles, same smile he walked in with. "If anything, you're an honorable man… an honorable man in a den of thieves, but a good man none the less. And for all my own charms, I do owe you. I don't like to live with my debts. I came to warn you, Mr. Adama."


	7. Just a spark

"Warn me?" _I don't have time for this…_ "About what?"

He picks up the paper again, makes sure I'm looking. Makes sure the man in the photo's staring back at me. "About this, Mr. Adama."

"Him? Tom Zarek?" Wouldn't be the biggest surprise I'd had all week... "Mind explaining what "big plans" he has in store for me? Nothing too drawn out, I hope."

"What, _him_?" he snickers, turns the paper around to get a second look at him. Wide, shark-like glee. "Well… that would be news to me. Of course, if he decided to go after the man that got him off…even after everything that's happened to you… What would the world be coming to?"

"I don't suppose you mean you, then?"

Serious glare again. His hand places the wrinkled wad of paper down on the bar and reaches up, lays something else down. He looks different without the specs. Less jaded, more open. Something else too…

More dangerous.

"No, Mr. Adama. Not me. Not him. The people that put him there… yes. The same one's that put you down for sticking your neck out, picking up the flame of truth. They're the ones you should worry about, Mr. Adama."

He doesn't need to drop names. I already know who he's talking about. Funny. Used to be the people I thought I could trust that I used to count on. Romo Lampkin never was, never has, never will be that kind of person. But right now… as much as it makes me sick at my stomach… he's the only one I know I can believe.

"And just why am I supposed to be worried… what exactly hasn't been done to me yet? What's left for anybody to take away from me anymore? I guess they must be after all those nice things you noticed that I've worked so hard for… my "lousy" office, alimony payments… or maybe it's my apartment? Yeah, that must be it. Must be their avarice for bad plumbing, and a view of a broken neon sign just outside the bedroom window."

That same grin again. He's enjoying this. "At least they still haven't taken your sense of humor… not completely."

"I'm not gonna' play your games for you, Romo. I've got enough problems of my own."

"Well that's true…" He nods, breaths in casually, let's himself lounge in his chair. "But then again… you're not the only one speaking the truth here. You are in danger, Mr. Adama. Believe me, this is a risk on my part. I'm sticking my own neck out by just telling you about this. Even talking to you…"

I try to repress my growing annoyance of him. "For someone that's risking so much, you don't seem too worried."

Romo pulls himself back up, takes a long glance around the room. "You wouldn't expect me to call up in the middle of the night, unexpected like, tell you to meet me in some back alley, under a broken street lamp in the park, maybe an abandoned parking garage. No, that's the beauty of simply walking up to you, sitting down, having a drink. It's out in the open. Anybody that knows me knows I'm too smart to do anything like that. They'd expect me to be more… original."

My eyes roll back, my feet shift on the slick marble floor. This really is a game to him. Wish I'd known that a long time ago. Could've saved me a lot of headaches…

"And what about them?" I nod to him, scanning over the crowd of happy restaurateurs. A happy crowd doesn't seem so innocent when you're watching for eyes looking back at you.

"Them? They're all fine…" he quips back, not so much as hinting that he ever believed there to be any possibility of having been tailed. "If you mean the not-so-innocent red head in the corner, she's just here waiting to meet her husband."

"Her husband? What's with the "not-so-innocent" bit?"

"Her _next_ husband."

"Ah…"

"And of course, there's the grey suit that's been standing right outside the entrance pretending to read the evening paper since you got here…"

"And he would be…"

"The soon-to-be _old_ husband."

"You should have had my job…"

"Maybe… but then again, I'm a better liar than you are. That's why I'm still a lawyer, and you're not. I don't have a problem with lying. You, on the other hand, Mr. Adama… you do."

I turn back around again; try to read the labels of the spirits and liquors in front of me. "Is that all you had to say?"

"Pretty much. Keep this in mind, Mr. Adama… with Zarek a free man once more… plans to settle old scores are about to spring into action. All it needs is a single spark, and this whole town goes up in flames. I thought you'd like to know. After all… whether you like it or not… you're still part of this town. You're the dying flame that lights the way through the fog. You're the spark, Mr. Adama… even if you still won't admit it to yourself."

Romo's feet hit the floor. He reaches for his cane, glasses, drops a few coins on the bar, gets up. I'm just happy he's finally leaving. I don't give him the courtesy of a sendoff. Don't even look his way.

I listen to the soles of his designer shoes and used cane limp away… stop…

"She's a cute kid."

"Who is?"… My neck cranes around. He's got his back to me now. And he's holding something in his open palm. Small, creased… a photo…

"I'd like that back _right now_ if you don't mind…" Every muscle in my face tenses up, straighten up, I stare him down like I've got a gun on him. He's finally crossed a line. I make it a point not to meddle in other people's business. I'll be damned if I let him meddle in mine.

"Certainly." he replies, that same all too smug smirk beaming from his face. He slowly holds it out. My hand reaches out for it…

His hand snaps back.

"Remember this, Mr. Adama… Don't loose your heart. They can't take that from you. That… you have to give away."

His arm stretches out, hand opens. I clench it out of his grasp. He eyes keep that same sly, wily glint.

My fist slips the photo back into my pants pocket. Envelope's still there… and the check. Didn't even touch that… Figures. Below his dignity, I guess…

Romo makes his way for the door once more. I'd been so busy avoiding him, I hadn't noticed something. Not really on my game tonight… Never am when he's around.

"You're not gonna' finish your drink? Noticed you haven't even touched it."

"Don't want it. Seems like you could use it more than me."

One last grin and he's out the door, blending back into the bustling crowds like everybody else's shadow.

What the frak… Free drink's a free drink.

My fingers slip around the cold glass, pulls it back. He forgot something else.

The day's evening paper lies folded on the polished black countertop. Something starts to gnaw at me from the inside. He didn't leave his drink by accident. Didn't forget the paper either…

I take a deep sip from the full glass and unfold the wrinkled paper. Nothing new. Zarek… Baltar… Pyramid playoffs… Whatever I'm supposed to see, it's not on page one. _Dig deeper, Lee…_

National, world, local, businesses… still nothing.

Sports… Nothing…

Wait…

I've already read this.

Not today though…different date. This is from last month. _Last month's_ sports page.

This is it. It's here. But what?

Doesn't seem to be anything for the main headlines… maybe the other side… nothing…

Wait…

_What the FRAK?_

No way…

How in the hell could he… He couldn't know…

A cold shiver runs up and down my spine like a train made of ice. I never have trusted Romo Lampkin. Never will. But for whatever reason… he's trying to lead me to something. Something big. Maybe he was right. Maybe this town is about to go up in flames.

I take a long, hard glance down at the black and white photo on the page. Can't believe I didn't catch that…

It's _her_…

With _him_…

"_That's because I know she's with Sam. He'd never hurt her."_

I reach down in my pocket; pull out the envelope… pull out the photo. _Gods…_

Kacey Anders.

Sam Anders.

Romo was right….

I did need the drink.


	8. Empty

"Alright! Last call! Time to go home!"

Conner's rinsing out the tower of glasses rapidly piling up on the bar. No music now, just the muffled sounds of people ready to be somewhere else. The band's finished up its last set and the guys are packing up their instruments for tomorrow. A few people in the back are still laughing, carrying on, getting "friendly"… making plans for where they're gonna' go next…contemplating that age old question…

"Your place or mine?"

A small pyramid of empty crystal glass sparkles in the low light in front of me. I might pay for that in the morning. Might not. Either way, I'm gonna' wake up to me. I've probably read every single line in the paper Romo left behind a dozen times already. Far as I can tell, there's nothing else. Just the photo. Just _her_. It has to mean something.

"Ya' have a good time tonight, Lee?" Diana asks as she slips her handbag over her shoulder.

"Same as always…"

Her head nods to one side, a sad look obscured by a friendly smile traces its way across her face. How many times has she heard that from me? I wish I could lie to her. Tell her everything's fine. Tell her I met somebody; tell her I'll stop spending all my time here. Wouldn't work. Probably wouldn't believe me anyway.

"Well I'll be glad to get off tonight." she replies. Guess I'm too depressing to ask much more about. Can't blame her. "Had to pull a double shift today. New girl didn't bother to show up. Feel like I could fall asleep right here." I believe her. Looks like she's ready to drop. "Good thing is I only have to come in for the morning tomorrow. I think I'll visit my brother and his family. Did I ever show you any pictures of my nephew?"

"Yeah, I think you did."

"He's really adorable. Just started 3rd grade. Lookin' forward to visiting them again."

Family. Almost can't remember what that's like. Not anymore at least. Somebody to fall back on, talk to, be there. A lot of people never learn what its worth. Diana's smart. I think she's already got it down. Wish I had in time. Most people would say I never have learned what its worth. Not sure about that.

I sure as hell know what it means to lose it.

"Hope ya' have a great time. Say hi to Jimmy for me."

"Will do. Say hi to Maggie for me. Conner said she had a date tonight, right?"

"Yep." I love Maggie. Really. Best friend I've had in a long time. But the fact that everybody's always asking me about _her_ life…

Kinda' makes a guy look for the door before he orders his drink…

"I'll remember to tell ya' how it went. That is if _she_ tells me…"

She giggles quietly to herself, rolls her eyes. "Yeah…Sound's like Maggie." Diana takes one last look around, makes sure she didn't miss any tips that some joker might have left under a chair, or an overturned ashtray. Must still be saving every cubit. Barely takes one for herself. Still sends most of it back to her mom. Nice gal.

Sure hope she gets out of here one day.

"Well, see ya' around. Lee." she says to me with her always friendly tone as she makes her way out the door.

"You too, Diana."

Door opens, street's quieter now, calmer. Same goes for the bar. No music, no laughing… not even hushed whispers. Just the echoes of traffic and the sounds of the kitchen staff washing up. Just me now… still here, sitting in front of a stack of empty excuses. A lot of people are at home now, scrounging through the fridge for one last treat for the day, yelling at their kids to stop jumping on the bed and go to sleep, cuddling up to somebody that makes em' feel happy, makes em' warm, makes em' safe…

I don't know what the hell I'm doing here.

* * *

The air's hot. My shadow cuts through the dull orange glow on the sidewalk beaming down from the streetlamps above. Bright red lights flash and swirl around me. Ambulance flies by, screams like a banshee. I'm not the only having a bad night. Domestic dispute, argument over a wallet full of cash, maybe. Might be their last ride anywhere. Then again… Might be a soon-to-be new mom. Might be somebody's first ride anywhere. Kinda' scary how I think of the darkest one first. I do it all the time. Doesn't bother me that much.

That's the thing that scares me.

I've been walking for what seems like hours. Probably not even fifteen minutes. Time slips by slower when you feel like someone's stepping on your shadow. Every stride feels like I've got a lead weight in my hip pocket. The clean white envelope wrinkles a little more with each step. The waded up paper in my jacket presses against my chest like a vice. Too many coincidences. Way too many. Still can't figure out why Romo gave it to me. Not his style to help out a guy for free. Especially me.

What does _she_ have to do with any of this?

With Sam Anders?

With the little girl in the photo?

With Romo Lampkin?

Just who is Kara Thrace?

_Play it safe, Lee…_

My imagination's running wild. Dark silhouettes trace their way to and fro across the alleyways and street corners. Figures dart in and out from under the streetlights. I hear the echoes of footsteps around me in the darkness. A pair of em' are in step with mine.

Could be nothing. Lot of people still out at this hour. At least I am. Then again…I'm not just out for a walk.

Can't be too careful…

I stop abruptly just past a streetlight, reach in my left jacket pocket, hand grasps my lighter. Good lighter; weighty, silver, engraved. _Joseph Adama_, my grandfather. I wonder what he'd think of me now. I reach for a smoke with my other hand, bight on to it, light it up. The red flash of the lighter's flame and the bright glow of the tip light up my face. I listen for the footsteps; keep an eye over my shoulder and watch a guy in a tweed coat pass under the light. He keeps walking, doesn't look at me as he fades back into the orange and black night.

Probably just walking home. Can't be sure…

My thoughts are running away from me. Two people come to me, never met one of em' before, never wanted to see the other one again. Both gave me clues… both gave me questions. Can't really be related, can they?

I can't get my mind off the little girl in the photo.

_Or her…_

Maybe I do have a case after all.

* * *

Everything's grey, cold. Sun parched frozen grass crunches between the soft soles of my shoes and the rock hard ground. The harsh icy wind swirls around me, burns my face, numbs my hands. I look down. Still can't believe it. It can't be true. I drop down on one knee onto the recently disturbed soil, my shoulders slump, hand slides along the smooth cool polished granite. The freezing stone sucks the life out of veins. My jaw clenches, eyes start to burn.

It can't be true.

Not a sound but the mourning howl of the wind. The sound of emptiness…

My mind darts back and forth, between anger and sorrow, lost and found. I read the words etched in the mirrored grey surface, take in a deep breath, stare out into the unforgiving lonely sky. I just want an answer.

I don't care from where anymore.

My left palm presses against the solid rock, fingers trace along the engraved letters.

_**LOVING SON**_

I keep my hand over the name. I know what it says. Don't need a rock to remind me.

The small heavy band of metal around my finger shines like fire.

I know what I have to do…

The blaring roar of a fire truck five stories below startles me awake. I pull my self out from under the sheets, a hazy blade of golden light from the window cuts right across my eyes. I roll over; check the time on the clock sitting on the over turned picture frame on my dresser. 8:53 a.m. My head pounds like a jackhammer on concrete. I rub the sleep out of my eyes and get up, walk over to the bathroom and turn on the tap. Cold water splashes on my face, gives my system the final shock it needs to start the day. The gaunt, tired face in the mirror stares back at me. I don't think he knows me. Then again…I don't think I know him either.

Not anymore…

I walk back into the bedroom, almost trip over my shoes lying haphazardly in the floor. A shaft of glaring sunshine illuminates the wrinkled white envelope and the wadded paper on the dresser. I pick up the envelope, pull out the yellow check.

Lee Adama, 10,000.

_No way, Lee. Play it safe._

I pick up the paper, open it back up to the sports page. That's him.

With _her_…

_Just play it safe, Lee…_

Yellow check goes back in the envelope. A small octagonal object falls out, dancing in the air before it hits the floor. Curly blonde hair, blue eyes, sweet smile. Smiling back at me…

I scoop it off the floor; start to put it back in the white envelope.

_Play it sa…_

I lock eyes with her. Cute kid…

_Lee, let it…_

_**FRAK…**_

I flip the photo over, read the name…

Kacey Anders.

And the phone number…

My hand reaches for the black phone on the dresser, grasps the receiver and spins the dial. It's ringing. At least it's a real number. Somebody picks up on the other side; the sounds of a crowd can just be heard over the speaker. A gruff voice coughs, probably trying to clear his throat.

"Yeah? Who's this?"

"Hello, my name is Lee Adama, and I got this number from a friend and I need to ask some questions. Where am I calling?"


	9. Nice Guy

A small bell rings above the door as I stride into a smoke filled hall. It's daylight outside, dark as dusk in here. The sharp crack of pool balls breaking, and pyramid balls slamming against metal crashes through the thick air. An empty crowd of what looks like regulars skulk through the dim light, occasionally looking up at one of a dozen screens airing various sporting events from all over, races, pyramid games, type of stuff people like to risk their week's salary on for a chance to feel a little better about themselves, better about the idea of standing next to somebody that's lost it all to them. Every now and then, a tortured shout of some poor sap, or a triumphant yell from some all too lucky bastard splits its way through the dark hall. Not the most reputable place in town. But I didn't expect it to be.

A deep cackle sounds out from a large man with a familiar voice talking over the phone who's sitting behind a reception desk near the back. I make my way past the pool tables and the players and make sure to scope out the joint. Make sure I've got more than one way out. Place like this…

Can't be too careful…

"Well tell him if he hasn't got the cash by the end of next week, I'm gonna' have to have some of my guys come over and have a little talk with him. Yeah!" yells the big man into the phone's receiver. He sees me, pulls himself away from the phone just long enough to acknowledge me. "Won't be a minute pal…" he coughs in a husky tone, and goes back to his phone conversation.

"Okay… Yeah…Love you too, sweetie. And hug that new puppy of yours for me, okay? Right… Love you too. Bye." He hangs up the phone, looks back up at me while I try to pretend I've been watching the game instead. "Nice gal… Brother's little girl. Cute little gal. Just loves this puppy that I got her last week."

_Nice guy…_

"So! What can I do for you? Next race is at 1p.m., so you got plenty time…"

"Um, no, I'm not here for that. My name's Lee Adama, and if I've got this right, you're Figurski, right?"

"Yeah, that's me. What dya' want?"

"Well I called here earlier this morning about asking you for some information…"

"Listen, I like the cops, but if you're just here to "talk", I'm not in the mood, ya' got my drift?"

"You seemed different over the phone…"

"So did you, pal."

"I'm not a cop."

"Ya' talk like one."

_Real reputable sounding guy I'm talking to here…Must be the right place._

"I can assure you I'm not a cop. I'm only here to ask some questions."

"Okay… Guess you're alright then. What do ya' wanna' know?"

I take out the folded sports page I got from Romo and lay it on the counter, make sure he sees the photo that ties the whole thing together. I still don't get why. Maybe that's why I was sent here. Maybe he knows…

"You know this guy?"

"Him? You're askin' if I know him?" he laughs, big, bawdy laugh. "Who the frak don't know Samuel T. Anders?!"

"Um, yeah… What I'm meaning to ask is has he ever come in here?"

"If he had, I'd have somethin' to brag about, ya' know? Nah, he's never been in here. At least I ain't seen him around here."

_Really…_

"Why exactly do you want to know? Or should I ask _who_ wants to know?"

"That's not something I need to spell out for you. I just needed an answer."

"Well Mr. Adama…" _This is going down hill fast._ "…being that you're not a cop, and you sure as hell don't have anything that concerns me, how about ya' just turn around, and leave me to my own business before I ask you to leave?"

No way is this all a run around… Not after what Romo told me.

_Play your cards, Lee…_

A small octagonal photo slowly slides onto to counter beneath my palm. My eyes follow it and snap back at him to see I've got his attention, and take my hand off of it.

"You were saying about your niece…"

A confused glare shoots back at me. It worked. I've got his attention. "How would you feel if she was missing? More than likely in danger? What would you do to the guys responsible if you could find them?"

"Break their frakkin' necks…" a more than sincere look scrawled across his face this time…anger. "…_after_ I slit their throats." he adds, almost smiling at the thought.

"I see we're on the same page. So how about you take a good, long look at that picture… at the little girl in that picture. You see the only reason I'm here is because I'm trying to find her. Because she's missing. Because she's in danger. Now I don't know if you have any of the answers that can help me find her or not. Don't really give a frak one way or the other. But there's a number on the back of that picture that tells me that somebody here has those answers, and I'll be damned if you're gonna' keep me from walking out of here without them."

I fire a piercing glare stare into him. Keep it on him. Don't even blink. Works…

He flinches.

Just like I knew he would.

"That little girl… She's really in a load of trouble, ay?"

His eyes dance back and forth between the paper and the photo. I was right. He does know something.

"Look, I'm telling ya' the truth when I say that I've never met Sam Anders. Never has been in here… But she's a different story…" he whispers, maintaining his focus on me while his right index finger points back at the photo in the newspaper.

"Her?" My eyes dart down back to the wrinkled page.

"Her…yeah."

_This is just getting weirder by the minute…_

"And you've met her…how?"

"Just once. Came in about two weeks ago. Easy to remember her… don't get too many gals like that walkin' through the door."

_I know what he means…_

"Asked me if one of the regulars was in, didn't give me her name. Walked over to him, sat down, talked for about fifteen minutes, walked out. Didn't ask what she talked about. Bad for business… Bad for me… Not a habit I'm thinkin' of pickin' up any time soon."

I walked in here to find out about Sam Anders. Find out about the girl. Didn't expect it'd lead me back to _her_… Not this early. My stomach's ready to twist and turn. The hairs on the back of my neck feel the thick smoke drifting through the dark air. This doesn't add up.

None of it.

"You said she talked to a regular. They wouldn't be in right now would they?"

"He's right over there." he nods in the direction of a tall, lanky man in a loud yellow hat and tacky black and white pinstripe vest playing pyramid across the room. "But you didn't hear that from me…"

"And he would be?"

"Brendan Costanza. Course if ya' want to have any chance of getting' anything out of him, ya' might want to call him what everybody else calls him."

"And that would be?"

"Hotdog."

_Hotdog? You've gotta' be kidding…_

I pick up my evidence off the counter; stuff it back in my jacket pocket, turn to go over to my new lead. Figurski stirs behind me, gets my attention.

"You uh… got cash on ya', Mr. Adama?"

"What's it to you?"

"Just being helpful. Never have known the guy to hold a door open for his grandmother unless he's getting' somethin' out of it…"

"I'll try and keep that in mind…"


	10. Crooked Kind of Creepy

"Hotdog, right?" I ask the lanky figure sucking in deep blue smoke from his cigarette.

"Depends…" comes back the more than passive reply.

"On what?"

"On who's askin'…" he shoots back, a shifty glare traced by a crooked smile reflects back at me. Guy knows when to keep his mouth shut. I hope this isn't one of those times.

I hold out a wrinkled black and white news photo in front of him. His eyes crisscross back and forth from the photo and my own face. "Name's Lee Adama… a guy that wants some answers." I reply, raising by brow, let my lips form the slightest grin.

"Well then…a guy that seems to already know the story I'm gonna' tell him before he even asks should probably be a guy that shouldn't have any trouble connecting the dots on his own without even needing to ask a guy like me…" He takes hold of his cigarette, throws it on the hard concrete floor, steps on it, and reaches for a pyramid ball. Doesn't look my way as he lines up a shot. He's not talking today.

Not for free maybe…

I reach for my billfold, pull out a spare 50. Walking around money. Good thing to have if somebody decides to go to me instead of their local bank for their next "free loan"…

The soft sound of crinkling paper wafts through the air. Hotdog takes his aim, his ears twitch with the slightest tension, he fires his ball. Not bad. Not as good as he was shooting for. Could have been better. Something else is on his mind. An eyebrow curls upward while his crooked smile returns to face me.

I guess the nice guy at the desk gave me some good advice after all.

"So…" I begin again, "Answers."

His head bobs back between me, the ground, and his next free meal. I already know what's gonna' win out. Always do with guys like him.

"I've seen her. Once or twice…"

"When was the last time you talked with her?"

"While back. She came in, said she wanted to place a bet."

_Really? _

"Why'd she come to you? Looks to me like you go to the desk if you want to place a bet. You talk to people quietly if you have some _other_ agenda."

A sly grin escapes him. He leans in close, makes a quick scan of the surroundings. "Let's just say… I know people that pay out way better than the clowns that run this place."

If there's one thing this guy's got, its confidence. Not sure if it's the good kind though…

I strain not to laugh at the thought. "You're telling me that you're running your own operation right under their noses?" That came out with a little more sarcasm than I wanted to give away. Couldn't help it. This guy just can't be for real…

"Well that's what makes _me _a good business man."

He keeps his eyes on the small bill between my fingers. He's not getting it yet.

_Not yet…_

"You of course realize that I'm going to want a name…"

"And just who's name do you need? Man in my line of work's got a lot of em' after all…"

"_Hers_, for a start." I reply, puling back the cash with the one hand and thrusting up the newspaper photo in the other.

"It's Thrace. Kara Thrace. That what you wanted to know?"

Well at least it was _her_ that he talked with. And she used her real name. Or at least that's what she always calls herself…

"So do I get the money now? Or do ya' want to know if her shoes matched with her purse?"

"You still haven't told me anything. At least nothing that I didn't already know. Nothing I couldn't…connect the dots with by myself."

The gleaming glint in his eye sparks at the thought. He knows he better talk quick. I didn't come in here to drop credits for the conversation.

"If it's her you're looking for…" _Good man…_ "I do happen to have an idea of where you might be able to find her… If you _really_ want to know…"

_Time to cash in Lee…_

Hotdog's fingers slip and twist the new bill as he looks down at it for the briefest of moments, catching himself in the moment and quickly shooting his off kilter smile in my direction once more. Guess it worked.

"You didn't hear this from me, but word is she's easy to find hangin' around the C-Bucks' practice. North side of town, C-Bucks stadium. Seemed to like the game. Seemed to like one of the players even more…"

One of em' for sure. At least that's what she told me. Still doesn't add up. Why ask me to find her daughter only to lead me right back to her? And why the frak did Romo feel he had to warn me about this?

Still can't shake the feeling that I'm being set up. I wish I still had the good sense to walk away.

Can't let it go now though…

"Thanks for the help." I start to turn away, shove the wrinkled news page back in my jacket pocket, make my way back to the door.

"For a guy that's already thrown his cash in, I thought you'd ask about the other guy."

I stop; he knows more than he let on. Has to. Might be a slick small time operator, but no way he's running his own numbers game here. Figurski didn't seem to have any problem with the guy.

"_Didn't ask what she talked about. Bad for business… Bad for me… Not a habit I'm thinkin' of pickin' up any time soon."_

"_Let's just say… I know people that pay out way better than the clowns that run this place."_

Must be working together. Maybe there is something to this…

"What other guy?" I ask. Nice guy at the desk said he never met Sam Anders. Also said he never really met Kara Thrace either. But this guy knows her. Must know Sam too…

Couple more answers might be worth an emptier billfold.

Hotdog puts his crooked grin on as he slips another 50 into his tacky vest. "Guy that came in here about a day after she did. Wanted to know what she was here about."

The newspaper in my jacket pocket wrinkles slightly as I lean back in. I thought she was looking for him…

"What did ya' tell him?"

"Told him to frak off." he replies, keeps his voice low. He's not the joker he's been for the last few minutes. Something's off.

"And just why did you do that? Didn't want to pay up?"

"No… Wasn't that. Something just didn't feel right about him, ya' know? Seen a lot of guys like that in my work. Never saw one like him."

Somehow, I've got a funny feeling in my gut. Mrs. Thrace didn't bother to mention anything about any crazed jealous tendencies in her husband. Any other time, any other case, it'd make sense. Wife plays around with her partner's paycheck behind his back, nut husband finds out, runs off with daughter. Easy answer. Something tells me I'm not about to get one…

"Never saw one like…who?"

Hotdog shifts his gaze around the room, almost like he's making sure nobody can hear him. "Never got a name. Guy took good care not to give one out. Something was just off about him. Told me he was lookin' for Kara Thrace, didn't give me a reason, didn't want to. Weird guy… Won't forget him anytime soon."

"Couldn't give me a description, could you? Seeing as I've already bought my ticket."

"Yeah. Cheap suit, wild shirt, scuffed up shoes…"

"A _real _description…" I cut in. We're too far in for him to be giving me the run around now…

"Okay." He smiles, knows just what he doesn't want to say. Guess I'm harmless enough for him to let it out now. "Short hair, almost a crew cut. Blonde. Rough face. Looked like the guy likes a good scrap. Steel blue eyes, stares right at ya'. Thing that got me was the voice… Almost like he already knew everything he was gonna' say before he even met ya'. Creepy dude. Just creepy. If you don't mind me sayin', I'd stick to lookin' for her. Bound to be less trouble in the end. Me, I'd be glad if I never saw him again. Hope that connected the dots well enough for ya', Mr. Adama."

A blanket of hot smoke swirls around me. I'm freezing. Romo really was trying to warn me. But why? For my own good, or hers? I know I'm missing something big. Light blares through the smudged windows of the hall, bright sunny day outside…and the shadows are just getting longer.

I nod slightly; let Hotdog know I don't feel that bad about getting robbed for words. "If he comes back in…" I say as I reach for a coaster on the empty metal table beside me, pull out a pen, and write down my office number. I slip it off the table and toss it back to him. He catches it, does a fast pass over it with a shifty gaze. "I'll be able to find you, right?"

"If _he_ comes back again…" he replies, business like stance to him despite his slouch. "…I just might consider a change of address."

I know he means it. And I've got the worst feeling that I'm about to find out why…

At least I've got a lead.

Kara Thrace likes to watch the C-Bucks…


	11. Red, Black, and Blue

The enormous black and red championship banner looms over the arena entranceway, welcomes me inside. Bangs and shouts bounce through the cavernous concrete corridors. From the stadium work crew, quietly buzzing around like ants to get everything in place for the next game, members of the press lurking around trying to sneak their way into an interview with the players or coaching staff, and deep in the center of the arena under hot spotlights, the C-Bucks practice for another chance to at retaining their championship. Place is decked out in flashy posters and banners of corporate sponsors hoping to make a killing off of the wild partying crowds soon to fill out the place to capacity tomorrow. I'd hate to be on the cleaning crew the next day.

The girl at the door told me I could talk with one of the trainers while he was on break. Name's Laird. Told me he works with Sam all the time. If anybody could tell me how Kara Thrace and Sam Anders were really related, I probably have my first good lead with this guy. I make my way along the buffed and polished floor, around the curve of the hallway; look for the guy's office. It's worth a try.

I still don't know what I'm supposed to find out though…

As I round the corner, a group of five cops and one guy that looks like he works for the team are standing right outside one of the offices, listening to a big, solid shouldered guy with a short haircut and a bland "plain clothes" suit.

Didn't think I'd run into _him_ today…

Pretty sure he wishes the same thing.

"Okay, make sure that you've got enough guys to keep the exits covered during the game. You need to make sure that there's somebody at each one that can help people out of the arena in case anything happens, alright?"

"Yes sir."

"Good. Well you guys get to it then." he says as the officers go about their business. The big guy turns back to other man. "Mr. Laird, are you sure there's anything else that we can arrange for tomorrow night?"

"Uh… Nope, seems like you guys have got everything covered."

"I'm glad to hear it." The big guy smiles, glances me from across the hallway. His expression changes in an instant, jaw clinches tight, eyes lock on with a fierce glare, he steps up straight and tall right up to me. I know how he feels.

Not like I blame him.

"Hi Lee. How ya' been?"

"Can't complain. How about you Karl?"

"Same as always. What brings you here?" I can almost feel his fist tightening into iron.

"Business."

"Same as always, huh?"

All this time and he still holds it against me. Like I said… Can't say I can blame him.

But I didn't come here to talk to Karl Agathon. "Mr. Laird, my name is Lee Adama. I'm a private investigator, and if it's not too much trouble, I'd like to ask you a few questions."

Laird gives me a sheepish look from behind Karl, whose still standing right in front of me. "Not in any trouble am I?"

"Well if you were Mr. Laird, I think that Lieutenant Agathon here would…"

"It's Captain." Karl cuts in in the blink of an eye.

_Right… Really has been a while…_

"_Captain_ Agathon would want to talk to you before me. I can assure you, it's not about you."

"Um, okay… We can step into my office. I've got some papers I've still gotta' sign off on."

"That'll be fine. Won't take anymore time than I need." Karl keeps a steady eye on me as I pass him by, follows me with a suspicious glare until the door closes behind me.

I've got a good feeling he'll be waiting for me when I leave.

* * *

Laird makes his way around his desk, passes his hand through a jumbled pile of schedules and forms, scattering them haphazardly on his desk. He reaches over to a small table, pulls a wrinkled newspaper off, revealing a small coffee maker that was buried underneath. The word "fire hazard" doesn't seem to worry this guy.

"Can I offer you a cup of coffee, Mr. Adama?" he asks, fumbling around with the pot of java, noticing something amiss the right off. "Um… oh… Cold coffee."

"I'm fine. Thanks anyway." I fight the muscles in my face to not break away into a laugh. No use irritating the guy before I've even told him why I'm really here.

Mr. Laird pours himself a tepid cup of coffee and plops down into his leather chair, clears away the papers again to put down his cup, and picks out a few sheets, rapidly scribbling out his signature on them. "Have a seat Mr. Adama." he invites without little more than a passing glance.

I pull up a metal chair, settle in, and reach for the newspaper photo in my pocket. "The reason I'm here, Mr. Laird, is because I want to ask some questions about the woman in this photo." I lay it on the table, catching his eye immediately. "Being that you work with Sam Anders, I thought you might have some idea of who she is."

"Yeah I've seen her. Comes every now and then to watch the games, team practices. Seemed like her and Sam where pretty close."

At least this isn't a complete wild goose chase that Hotdog's sent me on.

"Did you ever talk to her?"

"Can't say I ever said more than two words to her. Can't say anybody else here did either. Kept to herself, kept close to Sam."

Sound's like her. Mrs. Thrace wasn't lying. Privacy obviously is really important to her. This isn't getting me anywhere though…

"Do you have any idea what she might have been doing with Sam on the night that photo was taken?"

"Just out to have a drink I guess. I do recall seeing her at several team functions with him. Like I said Mr. Adama, I never really knew her."

The gears of our conversation are grinding to a halt. Doesn't seem like anybody knows who Kara Thrace is, save Sam Anders. Wherever he is…

Time to think about the elephant in the room…

"If you don't mind my asking, Mr. Laird… Where is Samuel T. Anders?"

"He uh, called us up about two weeks ago. Said he'd visited a doctor about a previous injury that had flared up on him after the last game we played against Troy. Said he'd been advised to take some time off. That much, I can vouch for. Sam did have an old rotor cuff scar that had gotten knocked around pretty bad after that game. I helped him strap on an icepack. We told him to go check himself out. Can't be too safe with our best player. Frak, we've got 20 million cubits sunk into him already. Don't want to risk blowing that on some stupid mistake in the playoffs. Too much riding on the whole team to sacrifice one man. For what I know, he's still in private therapy in the Cyclades."

"Seems like a long way to fly for a shoulder injury."

"Well, when ya' pay a guy 20 million a year, ya' get the best care money can buy." He almost laughs at the thought. I wonder how much he makes…

Something's still off about that story. "Funny… I don't remember hearing anything about him flying out of the country…"

Laird grimaces, sucking down bad coffee and trying to clear out his throat at the same time. "Uh… Yeah…"

I was right. Something's still off.

"Something I've not heard about, Mr. Laird?"

He pushes his half empty cup aside, takes a long scan of the photo lying on his desk, and leans in. "This isn't on the record or anything is it? Cause if you're from the press, I can't be talking with you about this…" he asks with a nervous glint.

_Finally…_

"I already told you, I'm a private investigator. I'm not working for anybody in the media, Mr. Laird, just my client."

"And they would be?"

"Like I said, _not_ the media."

"Well alright…" he replies, letting his posture slightly relax once more.

"So, Mr. Laird… Where is Sam Anders?"

"Simple answer… I don't know. And the complicated answer… The complicated answer is… I don't think anybody else knows either. One of the team's med staff gave his doctors in the Cyclades a call to make sure they had his latest x-rays. Sam had called them, told them he was coming there for therapy…but… he wasn't there, hadn't even shown up at the airport."

"And your team hasn't made any of this public?"

"Pyramid's big business, Mr. Adama. There are some things that people like to keep quiet… especially when they're on the verge of another championship…"

I remember something that Mrs. Thrace told me when I asked her if he'd ever "disappeared" before…

"_Yes… but only after I've told him to."_

"Had Sam seemed distracted, distant before he told you he had to take some time off?"

"Not really… No more than usual. One of the things that makes him a good player. Always leaves his personal problems at the door."

Private man… Private woman… No surprise…

_Gotta' dig deeper, Lee…_

"How about her? Ever talk about how things were going with his wife?"

"Wife?" he giggles. "Whatever made you think he has a wife?"

_WHAT?_


	12. Outside Looking In

It takes all the willpower I have to keep my jaw from hitting the floor. Don't know why. From what little I've learned already, this probably shouldn't surprise me. Still, hearing it from somebody else is a different thing entirely.

Stay in the moment, Lee…

"I was under the impression that Sam and the woman in that photo were close because…"

"Close, sure…" replies Laird, still not quite getting why I just asked him about Sam Ander's "wife". "But no closer than any of Sam's other girlfriends…" he continues.

"Other girlfriends?"

"_Does he… run around?"_

"_Yes. And yes, we're happy."_

"So he had a few other lady friends…" I continue, trying to get him to lead me somewhere where I tell if my feet are on the ground.

"A few…" a goofy grin starts to curl its way up his face "a few would be an understatement…"

"Really?"

"Oh yeah… He might have been out with her on the night that picture was taken, but I can assure you there's nothing "exclusive" going on there Mr. Adama."

"But you did say they were close…"

"Yeah, they're close. Like I said, far as I can tell… But she's not the only one that he keeps his company with…"

She wasn't kidding. Still… So she's just the girlfriend. Maybe the first, maybe the last… why say they were married? Why the frak did Romo give me a lead if all it leads me to is this? Not his style to waste his time on anything, especially not me, especially not with this.

And what about…

My hand reaches in my other pocket, feels the small octagonal photo, my fingertips slide along its slick surface.

What about the girl?

"Did Sam ever come to practice with a kid? A little girl?"

Laird visually searches his memory, scrunching his brow, thinking hard. "Now that ya' ask, yes he did. Can't place a face or anything…"

"Does this help?" I lay down the small photo over the newspaper page, look up at him, watch for a memory to spark…

He gazes intently down at the photo, picks it up, studies every crease…

_Come on…_

"I think so…" he tentatively replies, squinting his eyes, obviously trying to rend a forgotten memory from his mind. "Just once…I do remember seeing Sam with a blonde woman a long while back…could have been the one you're askin' about. Only caught a glimpse of her from far off before a game… Anyway, she did have a little blonde girl with her… Looked just like the girl in your picture."

"You haven't happened to see that blonde woman around lately, have you, Mr. Laird?"

"Not in a while… Not since the last time Sam was here…" he replies.

He slides it back to me across the desk. I take it and the newspaper page, stuff them back in my jacket. "I don't suppose you could tell me much else about what you know about Sam Anders… Strictly confidentially, of course…"

"Nothin' else really. At least nothin' else that I'd know. And I work with the guy almost more than anybody else on the team…real private guy… If ya' don't mind my asking…" Laird starts to get a suspicious glint in his eyes. Can't blame him. What he told me about Sam already would be enough to pay off my debts for a month if I was somebody he couldn't trust…then again…I'm not really sure if I can trust anybody. "What are you looking for, Mr. Adama?"

"Somebody very important to somebody that I'm sure doesn't want their name thrown around." I fire back, "Like I told you when I came in, Mr. Laird, this is all confidential. I'm just here to ask questions, not give away answers."

I never play my cards unless I have to, and Laird certainly isn't forcing his hand on me. Best to keep this as quiet as possible as long as I can. Too many loose ends already…

No need to drag this guy along with me…

"Well thank you for your time, Mr. Laird." I say, getting up, letting the guy give his attention to his work rather than my queries. His head darts up for a moment away from the pile of white and yellow forms still scattered over his desk. No problem…" he replies. I make my way for the door.

"And Mr. Adama…" he says, craning his neck out to follow me.

My head turns back to him, a leading look's drawn all over his face. "Yeah?"

"If ya' find Sam… Maybe you should consider keeping it to yourself."

"I'll think about it." I state firmly, grasping out for the doorknob. A tall silhouette casts its way across the smoky glass of the door.

I was right…

He's still here.

* * *

Karl's walking in circles on the floor; his strong hands fumble around in his pockets pretending to look for something. All he's been doing is standing outside Laird's office, waiting for me. I wish he'd let it go.

Gods' know I've tried…

I start to make my way past him, listen to the distant whirrs of the floors being polished, footsteps rounding their way through the arena walkway, listen to my own, count them off as I head away from the door. For a moment I start to feel lucky, feel like I won't have to go through the same old song and dance again…

A deep voice shoots through the air, hits me square in the back.

"Lee. Mind if I ask what you're really doing here?"

_Not getting lucky today…_

"I already told you, Karl. It's business. My business, not yours. Nothing for you to worry about. Glad to hear about you making Captain…and your daughter. She'd be almost one now, right?"

The look of concerned hostility on his face tells me right off that he's not letting me change course with the conversation that he started.

"One and a half…and thanks." he states with frigid sternness, keeps his arms stiff at his sides. "Everything's going great for me and Sharon. Finally made Captain, finally got the raise I'd been working my ass off for the last five years…even got Sharon this real nice place on the north side of town that she'd been wanting to move into ever since we got married. Everything's going great for us. For me…part of the reason why I want to know why you're asking the people around here questions behind my back. I can't let you be up to anything under my watch. Not after what…"

"Let's not go there…"

No need to say it again.

"So what's got you scared to let me do my job, Karl? Tigh still keeping you under his thumb? Or is it somebody even higher that wants to make sure I can't litter on the side of the street without them hearing about it? Cain, maybe? Sound's like her style…"

"After what you got me dragged into, I could consider myself lucky to be handing parking tickets, Lee." No mincing words on how life's been treating him… "I've got a big responsibility here, and I can't let you cause problems with the management…"

"I'm not causing problems, Karl; I'm asking questions…thought you remembered the difference. I told you, I'm only here to do my job and get out. That's it." I shoot back, my voice racing and struggling to not escape my control. He damn well knows I wasn't the one that got him to talk back then…

"And since when was security part of your beat? Thought you were a detective… Promotion not settled in yet?"

"Watch it, Lee. I'm the one with the badge here, remember?"

We both know what that means…

_I'm still one the inside and you're not… _

Not Karl Agathon's usual style to pull that one on anybody. But then again, I'm not just anybody. Not to him at least…

_Not anymore…_

"It's a big event, Lee. The fact that I got assigned to help with security has nothing to do with my current status. My promotion's fine, and it's been fine for a while now, but it'll be hanging by a thin thread if it gets back to Tigh that I let you near anywhere that I was assigned to cover. Frak, that I'm even talking with you… Just do me a favor, and walk away."

I stand my ground, smile. He'd love to think that he can intimidate me. A man his size can usual clear out a room with a glance. But I'm different. I've seen the real Karl Agathon. And that's why even though I'm on the outside and he's on the inside, reversal of fortunes if you will, that's why, even after all this time…

I'm the one that scares him.

"Good thing I already found out what I wanted to know."

_Liar…_

My smile holds, I raise my brow, smirk, soften my voice. It works. He sighs heavily, pulls back in air and drops his shoulders. It's his tell. Everybody's got one. I can see his from a mile away. Always means the same thing too… That's he's gotta' sit back and watch everything happen, can't jump in, can't stop it. Used to feel almost sorry for him when I saw it. Now…

Now I look forward to it. Means one less thing to keep me up at night.

My feet carry me away from my past, his present. Best we keep quiet and far away as possible. I take a final glance back at him as I move across the smooth concrete floor. He's still keeping his eye on me. Wish I hadn't run into him today…

I know he wishes the same thing.

* * *

My soles click across the hard, cold floor. Never had a case like this…never wanted one like this either. Nothing's adding up. It's like I'm trying to climb my way out of a sandpit, each and every grasp pulls me down deeper and farther from where I want to be. All I seem to be doing is walking, searching… All I want is a simple answer. Every question has a million hard answers, only one simple one. That's all I want. I reach back in my pocket, pull out the creased photo, stare into her eyes…

I make my way down the steep steps of the arena, down into the shadows of the grandstands, closer to the hot spot lights of the pyramid court. I flop down in a seat on the edge of aisle 23B, let the echoes of balls slamming and sneakers screeching wash over me, reach for a smoke, light it up, suck it all in. Smooth blue wisps of smoke glow in the dark stillness. My head rolls back and forth on my shoulders; eyes stare up at the far off ceiling.

"Thought you'd never show up…"

I twist back around; see a familiar face and even more memorable figure smiling down at me from two rows back in the dark. Her face lit by the dim light reflecting off of the bright arena lights.

"And I was beginning to think you never had…" I reply.

"Cute." she giggles, falling back in her seat. "So, now that you're here, Mr. Adama…feel like a drink?"

"Only if you're buying…"

"Now what kind of girl would I be if I took up an offer like that?" she asks in a sultry tone; a delicious smirk tracing its way across her full lips.

"I don't know…" I say passively. "What kind of girl are you, Mrs. Thrace?"


	13. Intrigue in the Rain

Smooth and light tones of a piano playing in the center of the light filled glass room floats along the soft glow of sunlight reflecting off of polished chrome. Polite murmurs and chuckles bounce across the bar between old friends and new acquaintances. Mostly quiet now. Place makes it's real business off the games and conventions in the arena complex thirty stories below. I walk along the slick crystal clear windows curving their way around the room, look down at the cars and people skittering around like ants, look out at a clean blue sky arching over a soot gray cityscape. My fingertips screech along polished brass metal wrapping around the cool glass, shoes scrunch into the cream colored carpet. Soft white clouds hang in the wind casting long shadows over a far off cerulean sea. Deep gray sheets of rain fall out of the distant clouds, crash down on to the silver freeway winding its way down the mountains into the city, soaking the cars blaring their high beams through the fierce shower.

Storm clouds rumble to off to my right…clear blue sky to my left… And here I am, right in the middle of it.

"So, you gonna' stare out the window all day, Mr. Adama, or are you gonna' buy me a drink?"

I glance back over my shoulder to the slim blonde in a deep red dress watching me; a sneaky smile curls from her lips to her glinting blue eyes, silky hair just hangs over her face. She sweeps it away with a feather soft touch, her slender supple skinned arms flow down, stretch out wide across the bar, open, inviting… I stand still for a moment, looking her over, trying to work together just why the hell I'm in this deep already. _Gods…_

"Well are you?" she asks again, lifting an eyebrow up in my direction.

_Snap out of it, Lee…_

"Only after you tell me one thing."

"And that would be?"

"Is your name really Kara Thrace? Honestly…"

"Honestly?" she smiles, white smile sharp as knives, "Yes."

"Okay…" I reply, shuffling my feet as I move my way from the light and over to her, "That gets you the first drink."

I pull my arm out of my left jacket arm, let it fall off to my right hand, I lay it down on the seat beside me, sit down next to her, settle in. "So what'll you have?"

"Something strong…no point having a drink if you can't feel it, right, Mr. Adama?"

"Something strong…" _Gods, who are you?_ "Sounds good to me."

A slight gesture of my fingers brings over the bartender; he's fairly young, short hair. "What can I get you two?" he asks, an almost obnoxious smile beams from his face. Probably thinks this is a date. Makes sure he's nice to get a good tip at the end.

"I'm thinking…" I start, keeping my vision locked onto the woman sitting beside me, watching for the briefest hint of a drop of her defenses "Two Aerelon Specials."

The bartender goes back for them; I stay with my eyes locked into hers. "You said you wanted something strong…sure you can handle it?"

"I was about to ask you the same thing." she fires back in a hushed giggle, still smirking her unflappable grin.

"So Mrs. Thrace… I guess you already figured out how I found you again…"

"And just when I was starting to think you wouldn't…" she laughs all too casually. "Most guys would've just cashed the check, never gave it another thought."

"Most guys aren't as smart as I am…or as careful. And I have to be both. I didn't cash the check." I reply baiting my voice with a question I know that she'll ask.

"You didn't?"

_Got her…_

"Can I ask why not?" She slides a glance down to the floor, rolls up to me again, her eyes glint the soft light. For once I'm the one asking her the questions… Still not sure if I'll get an answer though…

"Apart from the possibility that for all I know that check wasn't even real…"

"Cute…" she snidely glares back. "C'mon, why not?"

"I don't take pay for a case I'm not working on. Not my style…"

"But you're here now…" she leads.

"I'm here…" I reply, taking a moment to get my drink, "But who said I'm on your case?"

"So that's where we are…" she says in a voice smooth as silk, sharp as glass. Her fingers playfully slip around her glass, lift it back to her lips, sips it straight down. "Still don't trust me, huh Mr. Adama?"

"The last time I met you Mrs. Thrace…" I say, getting in a quick sip of the fiery liquid, "You didn't give me any real reason to trust you. And for all I've found out so far, I still don't have one. So how about we just skip the dance and you give me one, Mrs. Thrace… Or should I say Kara Thrace?"

My hot glare tells her everything I want her to know. The check, the number…the girl… Even after Romo, they still mean nothing. Nothing as long as I don't know who she is…

Who Kara Thrace really is…

"I see you asked about Sam…" she replies, a look of childish guilt scrawls over her body. "…long story…"

Tight gaze in her direction. The slyest of grins curls its way across my face. "I'll bet it is."

"But that's not all you've heard, is it?"

"No…but it's the most interesting…" I smile wickedly, taking another sip "…so far."

"Hmm…" she sighs ever so softly, resting her chin on her down turned hand, crosses her legs. "So what part has…intrigued you the most, Mr. Adama?"

"Now that is a good question…so many…" my mind begins to drift away from me, caught up in the slick fabric of her short dress draped elegantly over her form, loose myself in deep burgundy curves…

_Business Lee…_

"Well my first instinct would tell me to ask why you gave me the number to a small time bookie on the back of a picture of a missing girl…"

"Thought you'd ask about that…" she starts; grin tells me she's all ready to give me a whole story about checking out if I was legit… No need to hear her say it. I already got it.

"But then again…" I cut in, stopping her in mid-sentence "That's not what's got me the most intrigued…and being that that's what you want to know the most…"

"It is…" she smiles back, reflecting my own loosened expression in her smirk. I can't help but get lost in that smile, in those eyes. Guy in my line of work's not supposed to have feelings like this for his clients, especially clients like this…

Clients like _her_…

"Well Mr. Adama…" she asks, leaning in, perking her voice up and instantly dropping it to a hushed whisper "What's the one thing that's got you so _intrigued_?"

I stare into her for what seems like forever…a forever that doesn't last long enough to miss with a blink. Smile wide, lean in…

"Why the _"Mrs."_?"


	14. A Not So Simple Shade of Red

A sour pout scrapes its way from her eyes to mine, fades into an almost too angry glare. "You really are in the mood for a long story, aren't you?" she asks, a piercing stare burns peaking over her glass.

"Might be worth another round…" I reply, all too willing to stay there all night for one straight answer. Well…her first straight answer anyway…

"Okay then…" She twirls the now empty glass down to the bar in a delicate embrace, giving it a quick spin as she lets it loose, watches it as her fingers send it twisting on the slick surface, rolling crystalline echoes through the still bright air. It stops; she takes in a breath, locks sight with me once more.

"Where do you want me to start?"

_Good question Lee…_

My hand goes in my pocket, slips out the now badly wrinkled newspaper photo I got from Romo, lays it on the bar under her calculating gaze.

"Where'd you get that?"

"It's my job to know where I got it. It's your job to answer my questions."

"That was at the Art on the Rocks fundraiser, I remember my dress, not much else."

"Well that's not what I was going to ask you about…"

"Good, cause it was boring as hell…"

"When did you first meet Samuel T. Anders?"

She slides back slowly in her seat, takes a long, deep look off into the distance, serious. "Two years ago. It was at a party. Just like that one. Didn't go trying to meet anybody in particular, do anything in particular. Just wanted a good time, chance to pass the weekend. And then I met him…Sam… He was…different from most of the guys I've met. Wasn't putting on an act like everybody else, never tried to push himself on me. He was…fun. And I like fun. So did he."

"So you hit it off with him on the first go?"

"Something like that…" she replies with a silken glare. I touched a nerve again. Still the same woman that first walked in my office yesterday. But not really. She's…different this time. I can't quite place what it is.

"Anyway, it never seemed to end after that weekend." she continues "So, for whatever reason, we decided to go out on a limb…do something really crazy."

"And would that "something" be what you told me about that nobody else seems to know about?"

A sliver of a grin peaks from behind her deep gaze. "Yeah…we did."

"Mind if ask where and when?"

"You may…it was a real spur of the moment thing. We got married while he was on vacation in the Cyclades after the season. You know, one of those silly resort things that they'll do at 3 a.m. if you pay em' enough money. If you ask me, it was his idea, if you ask him; he'll tell you it was mine. Either way…I wouldn't count it as one of the best decisions of my life. Not that it'd be the worst…" She giggles almost to herself, not quite keeping it in "I've done plenty other things that I could count as my "worst""

"It didn't last…" I venture, placing my words carefully, making sure not to slip off the road again.

"In a manner of speaking…" she replies, torturously forcing herself to grin like everything's okay "it wasn't for lack of caring about each other. I guess I never stopped feeling the same way about Sam as I did when I first met him. Neither did he…"

"But…"

"But…let's just say, the same thing that made me fall for him made me hate him."

"You never thought of getting a divorce?"

"Just why would I do that? Last I heard, you have to be married if you want a divorce, Mr. Adama. And we haven't been "married" in a long time. I guess I woke up one day in the wrong bed."

I was almost hoping she had thought about it. Might help explain Romo's interest…

"But I'm sure if you asked him he'd say the same thing. That's the problem with falling for somebody that you think you're meant to be with…the problem with falling for Sam. I saw so much of what I wanted to imagine I was that…" Her voice drifts off again, loosing itself in the soft notes of the piano lazily floating through the glaring light. "That I forgot how much I can't stand living with myself. And no matter how hard we both tried, that's all Sam could ever be to me. Just a reflection in the mirror. What I wanted to believe I'd be happy with… But I'm sure you don't really need to know any of this, Mr. Adama."

"No, actually it's, uh…" _Find the words, Lee…_ "Quite…useful…to your case…"

"So you are on my case…" she grins playfully.

_Are you, Lee?_

"I said it would be useful…and I also thought you told me you were happy with him…"

"Well," she casts her face to the floor, takes in a deep breath "I didn't know you yet."

"You know me now?" I laugh, struggling to shade away my intrigue "I don't remember telling you anything that I'm hiding in my own dark closet."

"Right…" she sighs, taking another quick sip from her glass, setting it down again "So what about you?"

"What about me?"

"Well…I told you my story. And I'm sure you have one too…"

"That's not how this works."

"If you want me to tell you anything else, you're going to. That's the rules…"

"This isn't a game, you know. This is my time, this is my business, and…"

"And if you want one more answer out of me, you're gonna' play fair." she fires back. "Come on…afraid you'd bore me?"

_And I thought I was the one asking the questions…_

"Well, mine isn't as…"entertaining" as yours…" I quip, sucking down some more liquor, feeling it burn down the back of my throat, slide down into me.

_I can't believe I'm even…oh, what the frak…" _

"But?"

She's staring into me like she's pondering over which question she can pull out of me that will send me crashing into the ground. I've got a feeling she'll find it. Or she already has…

"Let's just say, that _was_ one of my worst mistakes."

"One?" she asks, gently resting her chin on her wrist, slipping her gaze down and up "Really? For you? Or her?"

I catch the glint in her eyes sparkling back at me. She really is enjoying this. I'm almost starting to feel the same way…

"Both. Mistake on my part to try and be with her…mistake on her part to fall for me."

"Why would that be, Mr. Adama? Or can I call you something else now? Lee, wasn't it? Mr. Adama just comes off as so formal, don't you think?"

"And Mrs. Thrace seems so…off, doesn't it, Kara?"

"If you like…" she whispers in a hushed growl "You were saying, Lee?"

"People change. I made a decision based on where I was. Wasn't any reason to ever think things were ever going to any different. We had this whole…_I_ had this whole plan worked out. Wasn't anything to worry about."

"What happened?"

"The simple answer…life. The longer we went on together, the farther we went apart…and the easier it was to see it."

"And the not-so-simple-answer?"

_FRAK…_

"The not-so-simple answer…" I reach for my glass again, slurp the rest down in one swift and slow gulp, feel it burn all the way down, clench the glass hard in my palm, let the cold glass press into my skin. "Well…that's another story."

"Is it?" Kara looks deep into my eyes; I watch the soft shifting light sparkle in hers. She smiles. "Must be a good one."

I start to lift the glass back to my lips, feel the emptiness in it and set it down; my fingers linger around the smooth hard crystal as I fall into myself for a moment. "No it isn't…but it is a long one."

"I'll bet it is."

Her soft whisper hits me like a truck. I can't believe I'm dropping my guard like this. I don't say half as many words to myself about my own problems as I've already spilled out in front of her. And I still don't even know who she is…who Kara is.

My stance relaxes in my seat

_Kara…_

_Snap out of it Lee. _

…_what about?_

"So what's the deal with the girl?"

"Kacey…she came along shortly after I met him. Made things a little more complicated."

"A little?" I'm sure it was more than that. It'd have to have been. Doesn't sound like there was anything planned about it either.

"You could say as much… She did help…does help to keep us together. Nothing like knowing that somebody depends on you, huh, Lee?"

"I'm sure it is. Must be nice."

I wish I could tell her I knew how it felt, knew what it meant to have someone to go home to, someone to talk to aside from Maggie at work and my "friends" at Joe's… Wish I knew what it was like to have someone feel the same way about me…

_Like that'll ever happen…_

"That's why I came to you when she came up missing. I can take Sam disappearing for a few days…frak, weeks. But not her. Not Kacey. She doesn't deserve this."

She's not hiding anything now. Not about the girl. She means it. And for what it's worth…she does love her.

"So you do want me to find her after all."

"Yes. Like I said, I don't know what happened. I just want her safe. That's all I'm asking from you. All I want to ask from you."

"It's still a lot." I reply, just now remembering how deep I'm in this already. _You don't really want to do this, Lee…_

"So what do want me to do? And no games this time."

"No games. Promise." Her voice lets on to her softened defenses. For all I know, she means it. Or maybe not… Either way, I'm in too deep to get out now.

At least that's what I keep telling myself…

"I think I'll have that other round now…" she glances to me, reaching for her cigarette case. Her finger delicately slips one out; hold it up to her waiting lips. "Have you got a light, Mr. Adama?"

"Are we back to that now?" I ask, just as I was motioning for another round from the bartender.

She smiles, almost giddily. "Just making sure you were paying attention…"

I reach in my pocket, fish around for my lighter, pull it up close to her face.

"Nice lighter…thought you're first name was Lee?"

"Thanks. And it is. The name's my Grandfather. One of the few things I've been able to hold onto over the years."

I spin the metal beneath my thumb, spark and amber glow at the tip of her cigarette. She inhales in the smooth blue smoke, her eyes roll back slightly, her muscles go limp in her seat. After what feels like an eternity, she sighs, blows the azure wisps escape back into the clear bright air, swirl around the rich red of her dress. Kara catches my eyes floating across her skin, takes the smoldering embers away from her lips, clears her throat…

"Good lighter."

I nod back, grin… "Sure is…"

_Watch it Lee…_

I look back at the bartender who's just slid our next drinks in. I thank him, reach for mine, feel a smooth hand take hold of mine, look up.

"This is the best lead I've got." she starts, handing me a small white napkin with a name and an address scribbled on it. "He's a guy that Hotdog's placed a few bets for in the past. I wasn't completely honest with you the first time when I told you about Sam…"

"_Not completely honest"?_

"He was having troubles. Pretty bad by how loud he'd shout over the phone. He never would tell me what it was about, but I've a thing or two about following him around, watching him… All I know is, he was talking to this guy the day before he and Kacey walked out. I'm pretty sure he didn't do it, but I'm also sure he knows more than he _thinks_ he does…if you get my meaning…"

She can't say anything without throwing in a little mystery… Guess she likes it that way. Keeps me guessing, keeps me interested.

"I think I do." I reply, folding up the napkin and tucking it deep into my pocket. Make sure it's safe.

"Good. And if you don't mind, I'd really appreciate if you'd cash that check I gave you. I almost feel guilty having you do things for me for free." Her hand graces its way around her new glass, snaps it back, almost throws it down her throat.

"Almost?"

"Well…I am having a good time with you Lee."

"Are we?" I hold my glare; lock onto the soft curves of her face. I'd never say it. Never tell her I feel the same way, never tell her how she makes me feel…

"_Business, Lee...Business…"_

"There is one other thing I need to ask you about, Mrs. Thrace…something important."

"And what would that be?"

"When I was asking your bookie friend about you and Sam, he mentioned something that got me worried. For you…"

A concerned look starts to emerge from behind her triad-faced grin "What was it?"

"Do you know of anyone in particular that could have been directly involved with your husband's disappearance?"

"It's like I already told you, Lee, there's a lot of people that could have…"

"I'm thinking along the lines of a man. Blonde, short hair, blue eyes, rough face, maybe a couple scars, weird voice…bad dresser. Reason I'm asking is because I heard he'd been asking around about you…"

Kara's face changes to something I haven't seen before, didn't expect to see in her. Not from somebody as strong as she is. Her eyes widen, every muscle goes stiff, her breathing shallows, skin goes pale, goosebumps shoot down her arm. Kara sucks in a deep breath from her cigarette dangling in between her fingers, abruptly dropping it down into an ashtray just across from her, crushing it in the heavy crystal. She's fighting her own body not to show it…and she's loosing. She's _afraid_. She's _really afraid_.

_Who the frak was that guy?_

"I don't know him." she quietly snaps back, reaching for another shot of liquor. _She's lying…_ "But…if you run into him…I'd like to hear about it, Mr. Adama."

"Certainly. I'm gonna' need a way to get in touch with you again…a _real_ way this time."

"Of course. No games." Kara takes an elegant silver pen from her matching burgundy handbag lying on the seat beside her, takes another napkin from the bar, writes out an address and a phone number. "This is my place in Delphi. You can call whenever you want. I'll probably be there."

I pick it up, scan over it, slip it in my pants pocket. "And if you're not?"

She drinks down another sip, smiles craftily. "Well you'll just have to keep trying. Don't worry Lee. You'll get me again."

"I hope so. I'd hate for this to be our last conversation…"

"It won't be" she grins back "but, unfortunately, I'm gonna' have to cut our little conversation short."

"Why so sudden? I thought things were going so well. At least I did…"

"Its not you…it's just that…" she's searching. It has to be something I said. And I've got a good idea what it was… "I've got a few things of my own to take care of…and so do you." She slides off her seat, takes her handbag, slips the thin strap over her naked shoulder. "Thanks for the drinks, Lee." she whispers, downing the last of her round "I hope you find what I'm looking for."

"So do I" my voice replies as I watch her slip away, deep red and cool, smooth skin fade into background, like the thin wisps of the smoke from her discarded cigarette now dying in the ashtray on the bar.

The gently plinking tones of the piano finish up a not so familiar song as I take another long, slow drink from my glass. Outside, the clouds are billowing over the hills and encircling the city, blocking out the sun, casting long blue-gray shadows across the walls. I pull out the napkin with her number on it again; so many thoughts run through my head all at once. I can't believe I've gotten myself in this deep.

All I want is to keep going…

"Everything going alright, sir?" inquires the bartender with an ear to ear smile as he scoops up Kara's empty glasses, obviously wanting in on the show.

"Yeah…everything's alright."

"Okay…" he replies, stacking the glasses on a tray "And the lady…"

He really does enjoy his work. At least somebody does.

"She's okay…just had to be off."

He nods happily, slightly goofy-like, leaves me to myself, my drink and my problems. My gaze find's its way back to the napkin Kara gave me. Distant thunder rumbles the wide curving windows behind me, rolls through the still afternoon air. I read the words and the numbers over and over again. Especially the last words…

"_Call me."_


	15. Ithacan Dream

My feet shuffle me through the cold air-conditioned hall, past several exotic plants in polished metal pots over to a small, wood lined phone booth in a nook in the side of the lobby hallway. I fiddle around for some loose change. The drop of a coin and a spin of the dial awakens the dial tone. I check my watch, and lean into the wall, tap my free hand against the wall, watch a few people go by, and wait for a familiar voice. Its 12:23 and my stomach's turning and growling. I should've gotten a bite to eat at the bar. I think I know why I forgot to…

"Hi, this is Maggie."

"Hey Racetrack. How'd it go last night?"

I hear her curt laugh over the speaker. "Just couldn't wait to find out, huh boss?"

"I've been on pins and needles all night, Maggie."

"Well enough…" she giggles. She's probably laughing at me on the inside. "…could have ended better."

"Could've?"

"We had to cut things short. I did tell you he had to work the graveyard shift, remember?"

"Yeah, I remember… Went well though, huh?" I grin. I can just feel her staring back at me over the phone. She hates it when I prod at her like that. I love it.

"Oh cut to it, Lee. I know you're not that interested in my boring little life…"

"I'm getting there…" I reply with a smile.

"Maybe you'd like to hear about Lance…" she continues, "He's been trying to cough up a huge hairball all day. I woke up and found him hacking up stuff all over my couch…"

"I think I've got it." I fire back a quickly as I can form the words. Not the cat. I've still got claw marks in my left forearm from the last time I stopped by her apartment. I hate the cat. Well…feeling's mutual. I'll talk with Maggie about anything…cases, her problems…frak, even _my_ problems. Anything…_except_ Lance hacking up hairballs. I wish the little monster would choke already. I hate it when she does that to me… She loves it. "Actually Maggie, I thought I'd tell you, I'm taking up that offer I got yesterday."

"New case, huh? Okay… Blonde, wasn't she?"

I can just see the near wicked grin tracing its way across her face; see her eyes roll around, lighting up with glee.

"Now how come you remembered that detail, Racetrack?"

"Just doin' my job, boss…"

I know what that means. I wish she wasn't so…_helpful_. Even if it is for my own good… Maggie's pulled me out of a lot over the years. I should be grateful.

"Thanks Maggie. Just thought I'd let ya' know…"

"Welcome. Hey Lee, where are you right now?"

"1st floor lobby of C-Bucks' tower."

"Other side of town… That's kinda' outta' your way….the blonde?"

_Gods…_

"It's just business…" I reply, wishing I could believe it myself ", and a lead. Maybe a good one. I've still gotta' check it out. Why'd you ask?"

"Well…I hate to ask you this, Lee, but on your way back to town, could ya' swing by the office? I think I forgot something yesterday before my date…"

"You did lock up right?"

"Oh yeah, it's just I forgot some perfume, and I'd hate to think I left it on the cab."

"Perfume? Last I heard you can buy a bottle at a department store for less than it takes to get driven halfway across town to buy it."

"Don't think I'd ask ya' to check if it some off the rack deal. It was this really nice bottle from Ithaca my sister gave me for a present after she got back from her last trip. I'd just hate to think I lost it…"

"Don't even worry about it, Maggie. It's no problem. It's on my way back anyway." _Not really…_A thunder clap booms through the air-chilled hallway. "Might as well hurry, it's starting to pour down here. I'll call you from there if I find it."

"My hero..." she replies with the softest voice that makes you want to carry it around in your pocket and talk to all day. "Thanks Lee."

"No problem…" I start to pull the phone away from my ear, say goodbye and brave the rain.

"And Lee…" says Maggie, perking her voice right over the speaker as I spin around and look out down the long hallway.

"Yeah Racetrack?"

"That new case you're on…with the blonde…"

Her smooth voice is different this time. Serious…worried… I still don't know how she does it. She's on to me. Maybe it's the fact that I called her over a weekend to tell her about a new case…maybe it's just my voice. Either way, Maggie's got my number. She knows it's about _her_…

"Just don't get in over your head, Lee."

My fingers tap and roll across the polished wood surface of the booth, eyes count a sharp glare off into the distance, off into the storm outside. I pull in a deep breath, let it out fast and hard, clinch the deep black phone in my hand, almost in a fist. Her words seem to echo in the rain lashing down against the lobby windows.

"_Don't get in over your head, Lee…"_

Kinda' late for _that_ advice…

"I'll call ya' soon, Racetrack."

The phone clicks down on metal; I push off against the wall and make my way to the glass and brass doors. Cold air rushes out with me, swirling into a fog of superheated shower of rain drops pelting the pavement. The clouds boom, and crash into each other overhead like waves in an angry sea. A lady rushes past me, coat held up tightly over her head and shoulders as she makes a mad dash for her car. I just sit tight under the cream and gold front awning being thumping under the rain and wait for a cab to pull up. So many things way down on my mind… My new lead… Romo… Helo… Sam Anders… the girl…Kacey…

_Kara…_

I wish Maggie told me where in my office I'm supposed to look for her perfume…

* * *

The elevator bell chimes, the heavy doors slide wide, open up to the same old, broken down hallway that greets me almost everyday. A steady monotonous drip plinks on the tile floor, falling from an upside down pool of a water stain hanging right over the door to my office. The lamps are off, blue gray light shrouds the shadows, muffles the rattling sheets of water crashing down outside. I down for my keys from hip pocket, shuffle them between my fingers, and slip the office key into the door lock. Metal shears and spins, the creaky lock pops open, door swings wide. I reach for the light switch to my left, flip it on.

Everything's put away, in order, stacked and filed away. Not like I could find anything easily…why else would I have a secretary? I can barely remember where she keeps the coffee. I move over to her desk, all orderly and neat. I make a visual pass of the top, scan over the mug full of multicolored pens, typewriter, slots for "In" and "Out" forms, with the "Outs" slot empty (finished and mailed out already…), take a moment to look at her pictures of her family… And her pictures of _Lance_…

_Maybe I can throw em' out and tell her somebody broke in…some half-crazed, serial cat-hater…_

I pull out her desk chair, slump in, start yanking open shelves. Maybe she left it in one of em'. No luck on the top shelves… I take in some cool, fresh air, feel something sweet and warm waft into my lungs…

_I know that smell…_

My hand fumbles around under the bottom of the left, second down drawer for the key to the bottom file cabinets. Should be under the concealed cutout right under the top. All the way to the left…to the right…all the way back… It's not here. I test the handle on the bottom… It's locked. So where's the key? My eye catches the faintest bronze glint buried under a loose pile of paperclips. There it is. Right where it shouldn't be. Not like Maggie at all…didn't think she was in that big a hurry to get off. Must really like that guy…

A turn of the key and a stout shove loosens up the bottom cabinet… Still nothing. Gods, I can smell it, I know it's here… I slide the heavy cabinet back, lock it up, put the key back into its usual hiding place. Nothing in her desk. I push off against the desk, slide the chair back..._over something_. I look down at the small elegant pink crystal bottle jammed under the back right leg.

_There you are…_

I get up; pick it gently off the floor. Hold it, feel its hard facets against my palm. A quick sniff fills my senses. Soft and warm…with just a little bite. Just like Maggie.

I reach for the phone sitting across the desk, pull it toward me and make my promised call. One less thing for her to worry about. I wish somebody would give _me _that call…

Wait through the rings again, listen to her pick up on her end.

"Hi, this is Maggie."

"Got a present for you, Racetrack." I smile, glancing over the light reflecting in rubies and pinks off of the delicate crystal bottle.

"You found it! Hey thanks so much for that Lee…"

"Don't mention it. Hey, um…Racetrack, when I was looking for your perfume I noticed you forgot to put the key to the bottom cabinet back in place. I'm not mad, I'd just hate to find out we lost it…"

"I did put it back." she replies in a slightly confused tone. "Sure you were looking in the right place, boss?"

"Found it under your junk in the bottom left, second drawer."

"Lee, I know I put that back in place. Always do."

"Yeah…" _Wait a minute…_ "I believe you. Must have been something I did." My eyes cast a long, deep view over to the frosted glass door leading into my own office. I've been in this business for enough years to know when to listen to a bad feeling.

"So Maggie, you want me to hold on to it for you, or just leave it here?" I say, keeping my gaze locked on the doorknob.

"You can just leave it in my desk. I'm sure it'll be safe there."

"Should be…" I try and keep my thoughts hidden under a smooth, controlled veneer.

"Something on your mind, Lee?"

_Damn…_

"No…it's probably nothing." Now she knows I'm lying. "Don't let it worry you. I'll see ya' later Racetrack."

"See ya', Lee…" she replies, her voice trailing off into the same sad tune I always seem to coerce her into playing.

I drop the phone down, place it on the top of the desk, right in the middle, easy for her find when she gets in again. I get up, go over to my door, check the lock. Still locked. _Good girl…_ Something's off though…

_Keep digging, Lee…_

I unlock my office, let the door slowly arc open. I walk into the cool shadows take a close scan of everything. Everything looks okay. At first glance… The closed blinds glow deep blue, long shadows trace over the crooked pictures on the wall. A brilliant electric blue flash lights up the room for a moment, scaring away the darkness, followed by a hard blast that rattles the windows. I move over to my desk, check to see everything's right. Nothing different… Maybe I am imagining things. After everything I've seen in the last 24 hours, I can't blame myself for feeling jumpy. I feel like I've earned the privilege.

I start to turn back around, reach for the door. Another flash, another thunder clap. I catch it in the corner of my eye.

_**WHAT THE FRAK?**_

I walk back to my desk, look down. My empty stomach tightens, every muscle tenses up. I feel like somebody's watching me. My hand reaches down, picks up the small glinting object lying so innocently on the top of my desk. My fingers tighten, constrict it, remember…replay the last time I was here in my mind…

_I go around to the back of my desk, pull open the bottom drawer, let it drop, hear the 'plink' of gold against glass. Bull's-eye. Right where it belongs… bottom of the glass. Right down there with me…_

_I lock up the door to my office behind me… _

My hand opens up; I glare down at the tiny thing lying ever so innocently in my palm, shining like fire, freezing like steel.

Somebody's been in here.

_And it wasn't Maggie…_

Outside the door, the elevator bell chimes, the heavy metal doors slide wide, footsteps click along the broken black and white tiles.


	16. Lucky Day

I drop the ring back down on the solid surface of my desk; feet carry me quietly out of the murky black room, lock it up behind me. Whoever they are, they're just outside, hesitating…watching to see if anybody else is around. No use in hiding. Light's already on, my silhouette's already painted on the glass, no explaining that away. They know someone's here. Just happens, it's _me_… I can barely make them out beyond the hazy glass of the door. I shuffle over to Maggie's desk, pull out her chair and sit down, stretch out, look casual. Won't look any less suspicious than if I was hiding right behind the door…. At least this way we start off on my terms. Somebody that's breaking in usually doesn't expect to see a guy sitting at the front desk waiting for them like he wants to know if they'd like to make an appointment. _Gotta' play this safe, Lee… _

The bronze door knob rattles, a slim crack opens up between the wall and the moving glass and wood door. Heavy shoes stride in confidently and cautiously. A freefalling water droplet splashes the brim of his smog gray hat.

A lot of people in my line of work use situations like this for an excuse to carry a piece around with them all the time. I don't. Not my style. Never could get used to trying to look innocent at a dinner party while it scraped against my ribs. But like I said…I don't wear one _all_ the time…just sometimes.

I wish this was one of those times…

His scuffed, soaked shoes drop hard on the hard, cold floor. Tall, built like a brick wall. His deep set eyes twitch and scope hungrily. He keeps his left arm close to his side, lets his right hang free, hand open… He's packing heat. Holster on his left, hidden under a thick, well tailored suit. Money to burn…probably not his. Lots of big people like their hired help to dress well, match with the décor. Whoever this guy is, he more than pays the bills. But I'm not about to pay his.

"Saw the door was open…" he says in a silenced slick voice, smooth as the barrel of the gun at his side "Thought I'd drop in."

"Go right ahead." I look straight at him, gaze shrouded in a smirk "Looking for someone?"

"You could say that. You know Lee Adama?"

"Name's on the door…last I noticed."

No smile, nothing. Stance stays locked and high, doesn't even breathe differently…

"Well I'm looking for him." he replies coldly smiling under a wolf's glare "If he's in…"

"Must be your lucky day." I say, keeping loose and relaxed in Maggie's chair, left hand tapping out of rhythm on her desk. "What do you need?"

"Not what I need. What my boss needs."

"And he would be?"

Same glare, same grin…just meaner this time. "You need to come with me."

"Now?" I ask him, brow high, eyes wide, and head cocked to the side almost arrogantly. He's not getting what he wants that easy… Whoever _he_ is…

"Right now…if you don't mind." Dead serious now…

"And if I want to pass on your boss's invitation?"

"You know, he told me you probably wouldn't want to go…" he replies in steely confidence, slipping his coat open to the left. Dull black steel in hard leather glints in the white light. "…so he told me I could be..."creative"."

I keep my eyes on him instead of the incentive he's got strapped to his side. I'm not gonna' give him the satisfaction. Not like I haven't stared down the barrel of a gun before… Long story…

"That's the best you could think of?"

"Funny guy…" not even a chuckle. Must not have a sense of humor… "Let's go." He pulls the pistol from its holster with his right hand, holds it firm at hip level…heart level from my perspective. _Just keep smiling, Lee…_

My feet scrape back across the floor toward me, hands stay in place, gaze doesn't shift an inch. No point making him nervous. "And where would that be?"

"Not here. Now c'mon, I haven't got all day."

"Car waiting for us outside?" I ask, keeping his eyes on me and off my hands sliding back over the desk, grating over the small, unassuming trinkets scattered on top, my palms, one open, one closed, push me up out of my seat and to my feet.

"Waiting for _you_."

I feel the weight in my hand, small, warm…totally innocent. Perfect. "What are we wasting time for?" I say, stone faced no put-on job of fear or anger, just letting him know he's about to make his boss happy. Well…not that happy.

I'm up, start to walk over to the door. He gestures at me to stop with the handy piece of cold metal in his hand. "If ya' don't mind…" he says as he starts to check me over with his muscled free hand.

"Just watch where ya' check…I've got space issues." I quip. Still not even a hint of a grin. Tough room… I stand still and upright, keeping my closed hand out and obvious enough to be ignored.

"Okay…you're clean." He says pulling back, keeping his eye on me, waiting for me to bolt at any moment. Not gonna' happen. Not the way he thinks at least…. Shoes take three tentative strides for the open door. Cool and quiet.

"Hey wait a minute!"

I stop again, freeze. He comes up to me again, a quizzical look betraying an overlooked detail that's only now registered in his brain. "What's with the deal in your hand? What is that?"

"Oh this?" I reply cordially, turning back around to face him, letting the small object slip back into view, palm open. _Time to cash in…_

"This is me being creative."

The fragrant spray sets his eyes aflame, a shriek of wild pain escapes from him, hands go up. I grab his flailing weapon hand; charge him at full speed, slamming us both into the wall, bouncing off with a crash. The rosy-pink bottle in my palm drops out, hand shoots up, clamps onto the back of his thick neck; other arm yanks his gun arm back and up, ears pick up the distinctive crunch of bones and joints stretched to tearing point. Gun goes flying, ricocheting off a file cabinet with a bang, landing right at my feet as I spiral around barreling the both of us out of the air, landing hard on his back on the harder floor. His head almost flies off his neck from the impact into the frigid polished wood, hat rolls off his head in the process. My hands keeps his painfully bent arm locked in a vice-like grip, I scramble fast bury a knee in his spine, and reach back for the gun. He twists and turns under my weight with all his might, reaching out at me. The next thing he feels is smooth steel pressing into the back of his skull.

He lets out an urgent groan, still squinting like crazy to try and wipe the burning chemicals from his eyes. I'll say one thing…he does smell a lot better. I glance over at Racetrack's bottle of perfume, slowly spinning to a stop across from me. Reflecting and refracting the white light in every shed of ruby, looking just as innocent as it had before. The smooth odor fills the air. Soft and warm…with just a little bite. Just like Maggie.

Exactly why so many people underestimate her….exactly why I like her.

"Now," I manage to grunt, making sure he's not about to make a break for it "why the hell where you snooping around my office?"

"I told you! My boss wanted to…"

"Don't frak with me! What, did you forget something? Is that why you tailed me back here? Didn't find what you needed the first time, so you thought you'd come after me?"

"I don't what you're talking about, okay!"

The gun cocks back, knuckles go white, the blood in my fingers is squeezed out between bone and muscle and steel. "There's a bullet in this gun with a ticket for a short trip to the other side of your head that says you do."

"Look, I don't know! I don't know!" he shouts frantically. "Maybe…maybe somebody else has been following you…"

"Somebody else…" Wouldn't surprise me. Guy doesn't look like the person that was asking around about Kara. Doesn't act like him either…nowhere near the presence…no way this is that guy that had her frightened. This guy's just a drone… "And how long have _you_ been tailing me?"

"Ever since you came back to your building. Been looking for you all day. Car's parked on the other side of the street. Just the driver and me."

"I don't work today. Why wait for me here?" I ask.

"He told us not to bother you at your home. Didn't want to upset you…"

"Well isn't this your lucky day." I think even he appreciates the irony of his frak up of showing up at the office of a guy that's just had his office broken into. I shift my weight; let him breathe a little…enough. I reach for his hat and shove it back down on to his head. "Now that we've cleared up any misunderstandings…lets go see your boss."

As I follow him out the door, I stop to place Maggie's perfume back on her desk, waiting for her to get back. I kill the light, lock the door, keep my glare and his gun on him down the damp hallway of black and white tiles and cracked walls. Make sure to take the stairs. Make sure he doesn't only have a driver friend waiting for me behind a corner...

Thunder rumbles far away through the overreaching caverns of stone and steel, rain's dying down now, leaving puddles of rain boiling on the pavement as the cars splash along in the glaring gray afternoon shadows. A slick black car arrayed in chrome and tinted windows sits menacingly off to the corner by a now empty newsstand.

* * *

"Hey great, you got hi…" says the driver as I close the right side back door of the elegant car, shoving his friend across the lavishly upholstered seat and point his friend's gun at his head.

"Keep your hands on the wheel." I tell him, frigid determination written all over my face. "Your friend says you've only been waiting around for me here for two hours. Is that true?" I ask, steel eyes glaring at him from behind his seat.

"Thought you said this would be easy…" he starts to his now disarmed friend, still trying to rub Maggie's perfume from his burning face.

"Answer the question." I fire back. "And I'll take your gun while you're at it or one of you gets the second round."

His cockiness drains away in an instant. He slowly and deliberately reaches in his coat and pulls out his own weapon and hands it back to me, instinctively pulling the clip out. He's done this before… "And the one in the glove compartment, if you don't mind." I remind him.

"What the frak make you think there's one in there…" He's stalling. I bore my knuckles into his wounded partner's right shoulder with an agonized grunt from my new friend and hold the gun in my right close to the driver's face. "Let's just say, I've had some experience in this area. Now!"

His hand shoots over to the glove compartment latch, turns it and reaches in, hand emerging with a black, filed-down 45. He runs through the same routine with him handing it back to me for safe keeping in my right jacket pocket. "Now about my question." I ask; jaw clinched to let him know I mean business.

"Yeah…just been waiting for ya' to come by…thought you'd never get here."

"What about earlier? Was that some other buddy's of yours that paid my place a visit?"

"I don't know what you're talki…"

"You know, I'm getting kind of tired of hearing that. Your friend here's gonna' have a sore shoulder for a few days because he didn't know anything. I'm thinking of going for a knee in your case, what do you think?"

His hands clinch the wheel hard, beads of sweat drip down his fading white forehead. "I promise you, I have no idea what you're talking about. We just came here to get you to see our boss. That's it."

"Never heard of a phone call?"

"Didn't think you'd be in…" he snidely replies. He's starting to get comfortable again… "You're not really gonna' shoot the both of us." challenges the driver.

"No I'm not. I need _one_ of you to drive." I smile back at him. "And since you're already at the wheel…" I look over at his pleasant smelling friend still jammed up against the left side door. Not so tough looking now…

"Get out."

He waits for a moment, testing my nerve. I test his with a click of the hammer on his gun. Door's unlocked, and he's on the sidewalk in the next blink. The guy stretches his arm out again, still squinting painfully in the falling drizzle of raindrops rattling down on his squashed smog gray hat. I reach in to my billfold, slip out a few cubits, let em' fall to the pavement at his feet. He looks back at me, more confused and pissed off than ever.

"Cab ride's on me." he hears me say as the solid black door slams in his face.

I let myself get comfy, slipping my arms wide over the elegant back seat, keeping my gun just low enough to be quiet, well aimed enough to be deadly. The driver arcs his had back in my direction, keeping one eye on the weapon boring a hole into his imagination.

"Now how about we pay your boss a little visit. Wouldn't want to get you in trouble for not bringing me in."

* * *

Half an hour after breaking away from the cacophony of horns and idling engines of downtown, we're driving along the spacious and verdant hills overlooking the steaming fog sitting over the city. The narrow and curving road breaks to the right and left like a wriggling grey serpent. I keep my eye and my piece locked onto my less than happy driver as he winds the elegant black car between long stretches of well manicured walls of ivy hedges and stone walls, passing the occasional brick and black metal gates hidden away among the scenery, all hiding their own secrets behind castles of white and cream plaster. I know this place like the back of my hand. Done a lot of favors for a lot of people that would rather I forget their names all together. Doctors, lawyers, businessmen and women, and just people that got lucky with who their third aunt was… Extortionists, adulterers, embezzlers, and just people that got stupid with who they trusted... I've seen it all here. I think back to the loud roars and cries of the alleyways and backstreets of downtown, the factory district, Sagtown… I look out the window at gardeners trimming topiaries and hired drivers polishing off gleaming sculptures of metal and glass…all the time obfuscating the real action going on right behind immaculate windows and doors. This is where the real bad dreams come to life. This is where the shadows come to play in the daylight.

Where I used to call home…

The driver pulls into a tight corner and up to a looming black gate, gleaming in the hot afternoon sun. He rolls down the tinted glass window and leans his head out toward an unassuming speaker almost eaten completely by the ivy strangling its way up an imposing red brick wall. "I'm back." he spouts out into the dull metal grill. "Have you got him?" asks a tinny voice from the hard-edged box. Slight hesitation again… "You could say so…" replies my driver, keeping things short and quiet until he has to let out the whole thing.

The gate buzzes; a heavy metal click and a soft electric hum starts up. The twin black iron gates slide open, the driver gets back into place and starts the car up a long and narrow shrub lined pink and grey cobblestone trail. It seems to go on forever, finally opening up into a wide open expanse of green and white, looping around a multi-decked marble fountain to the front entrance of a huge white monument to wealth and privilege…one of the finer and more elegant estates in the neighborhood. Almost funny considering who lives here…

The car stops, shifts into park, well tuned engine sputters to a halt. I tap the guy on the shoulder; get his attention with his friend's weapon now dangling by the trigger guard from my index finger.

"Wouldn't want to make you look bad in front of the boss…"

He scowls back at me, eyes slanted with anger. He takes the gun out of my grasp, glares with fire, and gestures for me to get out with a quick nod. I leave the other guns in the seat, open up the solid door and step out onto damp, polished cobblestones. Door slams shut behind me; car starts up again and cuts into gear, leaving me standing by myself. Guy didn't even get out to show me to the door… _Must have been something I said…_ I look around; take in the rich greens and blues surrounding me, smell the fresh spray of rain and wet grass, feel the sunshine on my face. You really do miss the little things like that when you work in a badly lit box in a maze of concrete most of the time.

_There he is…_

My shoes click and clap over the slick pastel stonework, over to the still wet, base of wide, rounded grey and blue streaked marble steps leading to high, overarching crystal doors. I start my way up…

Up to the tall, dark haired man staring down at me…


	17. Friends Like You

Stray droplets plummet from the fleeing clouds intermittently, splashing silently against the slick marble under my feet. He looks down in my direction from the top of the steps, shrouded away from the wet and the sun. Standing firm in a powder blue shirt that blends into the soft grays behind him, stands out against the deep granite shadows. Strong, determined, calculating… Probably working rehearsing some speech he wrote in his head the night before with each advancing step up to him. Black hair with wisps of grey, weathered over the years, same as his expression. Tired and resilient, the kind that never really gives up, type that likes everybody to know that, worry about it. Worry about him…

Just the way he likes things.

A beaming, campaigner's smile beams into place; he starts down in my direction, meets me halfway, comes in close. Close enough for his comfort. Not mine.

"Mr. Adama, it's a pleasure to see you." he grins in a gravelly voice that speaks experience.

"Not mine." I fire back, in clinched restraint "Never heard of sending a letter? Telegram?"

He grins wide, "I'm sorry about the abruptness of my invitation, but as I'm sure we can both admit, you wouldn't have come if I'd asked you personally."

"Would I?" All this time and he still treats me like I used to be his friend. I wouldn't have been his friend even if he hadn't been the one in that trial… "Well you'll never know now, will you? And for future reference, being threatened at gunpoint isn't the best way to treat your guests."

Surprise…I didn't expect to see that in him. He huffs uncomfortably, jaw grinds his teeth. "I never told them to do that… I hope you'll accept my apology." he says.

"And about my office? I didn't appreciate that either."

"Your office?" Out of everyone I've known he's still one of the hardest to read. I almost want it to be him. A lot simpler if he did order a break-in…a lot more complicated if he didn't. "I can assure you, Mr. Adama, whatever other problems you might be having; I'm not a part of them. I asked you here as a friend."

"Funny way of making friends." I reply, "First you send guys to snoop in my business, and then send more of your goons to threaten me…"

"I told you, I'm not a part of anything else that might be happening to you now." he says. "But maybe I can help…as a friend."

I don't know what he's getting at. Not sure I even want to know. Not sure I have a choice, though…

"I'm not your friend, Zarek."

"But I want to be yours." he smiles. "And call me Tom."

A cocky grin on my side lets him know he's not gonna' get the satisfaction of that. Not yet. "And just why are you so interested in being my friend, Mr. Zarek?"

Same smile…same hard read. He knows something I don't. And he loves it, savors it. Lets the bright, fresh air swirl in the sun. "Because you're going to need one, Mr. Adama. And sooner than you think."

"I've got friends. Enough anyway."

"Now that is a surprise, coming from you…" he torts, rolling his eyes, cutting off a laugh in mid-breath. "At least I'm being honest with myself about who hates me, and that would be almost everyone. But you, Mr. Adama…just who do you think is on your side anymore?"

"I'm not gonna' let you waste my time listening to another one of your lectures…" I say, turning away from him, letting my foot hit the step below me. Doesn't really matter that I don't have a ride…

"You know, I heard a lot about you when I was away. What they did to you. What you did to yourself. Do you actually think they won't come after you again now that I'm out in the light of day once more? Now that I can…speak my mind freely again?"

"And what is that supposed to mean? I thought we had an understanding that I don't like to be threatened." I challenge, ready to lose all my patience now.

"You're not. Not by me. But like I said, I heard a lot of things when I was away. A lot of things that you might want to hear…"

I've managed to put a lot of last night behind me. Now all I can seem to feel is the wrinkled newspaper clipping stuffed away in my pocket. Remember Romo's scrapping words from across the bar…

"_No, Mr. Adama. Not me. Not him. The people that put him there… yes. The same one's that put you down for sticking your neck out, picking up the flame of truth. They're the ones you should worry about, Mr. Adama."_

Maybe there was something more to what he was getting at than I gave him credit…or at least what I could figure out on my own. Maybe I should listen to Zarek…

I take a step back up again, stand up to him for a change. "You can cut the manipulative crap out right now. What are you talking about?"

"A man hears a lot when the powers that be stop worrying that he might be heard. He learns to stay quiet, listen…bide his time. Only sooner or later, he puts it all together." He pauses again, another one of his dramatic moments. Only it means something this time. Something he wants me to understand. "_I _put it all together. Figured out exactly why they wanted me quiet," he continues. "…and exactly why they let me slip through."

"Let you slip through?" I almost growl. "I don't remember that being the reason why you only got 5 instead of 50. Or worse…"

"You know better than anyone, maybe even me; that they could have taken me down forever in that trial. That's why that stunt of yours was such a surprise. One I've never properly thanked you for, I might add."

"And one I've never asked you for." I throw back at him. "And that "stunt" of mine that you enjoyed so much wasn't for you."

"But I am grateful, Mr. Adama" he grins back. "And you do need to hear what I have to say. Unless you think you're new profession has a chance of getting you back in again."

"_Back in again…" _He has been keeping up with things. I know exactly what Zarek's prodding at. Maybe thinks there's still a part of me that wants that life again. Frak that. I drank away that part of me away a long time ago. Never have regretted it.

Even though what's left of me wishes I did…

"So what did you hear, Mr. Zarek?"

"Are you asking as friend?" he replies. _Damn it…_

"Tom?" I ask between a clinched smile, pull so tight it hurts.

He smiles back, relaxes his stance, knows he can talk on his terms now. "Just rumors mainly. Not what they were really…" he teases. "It's who I heard them from. And names…"

"What names?"

"It feels so formal standing here, doesn't it? Would you care to continue this conversation in my garden?"

"What names, Tom?"

"Let's just say…they're people that know things. About me, about the trial…about you. People you know, Mr. Adama." he says, straight faced, a shade of worry scrawled into his worn charm. "Or should I say people you think you know." Now, would you care for a tour? He asks, gesturing me in.

"Why not? One thing though…"

"What would that be?"

"Got anything to eat? Your friends made me miss lunch."

"I'll have the staff make you something." he remarks, already on his way up and through the now open door. He turns back, stops. "After you…"

I take in a breath, sigh, feel the warm rays of sunlight soak into my skin as I walk up the elegant marble steps into the grandiose entranceway to the former, and once more estate of Mr. Thomas Zarek. I pass him quietly; glance back briefly enough to see him scan back over his shoulder into the emerald expanse of greenery surrounding his front drive. The look's attentative, watchful. He's looking for someone.

He's being watched.

Maybe this isn't all about him…


	18. Honest Man

If one thing can be said as a complement about Tom Zarek, it's this…he knows theater. I stroll around a twisting sidewalk of his ivy covered garden, take in the immaculately designed space surrounding me. Everything looks free to grow wild, have its own room to expand and branch out. Just like it's supposed to look. It's all nothing but theater, a delicate farce of nature held captive in sculpted stone and metal. Just like Zarek. Open, vibrant, lively…all the while holding everything together in a fist of iron. My hand passes through tangled ivy, soft and cool, still dripping in glistening water droplets. The gently soothing noise of crashing water spouting down from a huge, ornate black marble fountain in the center of the garden cascades through the still muffling silence. Bird's chirp and sing out into the bright blue sky from the deep greens and grays of the thick, twisting foliage, overhanging me, watching every move over my shoulder. I pull in a breath of cool, clean air. Can't help but feel the serene textures of smooth jades and bright slates enclosing me all around. It's not just a garden. Its Zarek's own personal amphitheater; place for him to put on his own show, take control, take over. It's all him.

"I see you're admiring my botanical collection." says a strong, inviting voice behind me.

"It's really something." I reply, taking notice of a particularly branching of brilliant emerald ivy with deep crimson streaks slowly strangling its way up the smooth grey bark of a dogwood tree. "I'm not much of an expert on plants, but I thought it was dangerous to let Madrath ivy to grow wild. Tends to overtake everything else, doesn't it? Poisonous too, if I remember correctly…"

"Difficult…but not dangerous." Zarek acknowledges with a grin. "If you one knows how to learn to live with it. If you're wondering, I had that planted here three years ago. And as you can see, everything's not only in balance, but thriving."

"Three years ago? I thought you said you planted it?" I ask.

"Had it planted." he quickly replies. "When I first purchased this estate, I neglected this place almost entirely. Never could seem to find the time. Then, as I know you're well aware, one day…" He starts to drift off in the moment. I watch him as he takes in a long visual sweep of the aerial greenery tracing up into the trees and surrounding stonework. "One day, all I had was time." His words are soft words are laced with acid, mirroring his façade of calm and serenity. "So, I did what I could to keep active. And after a while, my thoughts always seemed to drift back to this place. One of the few things that they let me enjoy during my time away from society was working in the prison's garden. Used my free time to teach myself everything I could learn about it. Then I used what I'd learned there to send correspondence back to the few staff that kept working here all throughout that time, have them revitalize this space and turn it into what you see today. During those…years…of being surrounded by rock and steel, I learned to let go of all the worries I was so accustomed to from my lifetime in politics and business and learned to cherish the time I had in the open air. I learned to relax for the first time in my life. One of the only I walked away from there wanting to remember…"

"So now, your idea of relaxing is to fill your garden with ravenous vines that are always working to destroy everything you've accumulated? Rather competitive way to relax from my perspective."

"Life is competition, Mr. Adama. Endless struggle." he smiles. "Learning to play the game…enjoy the game. Thrive. That is where the greatest satisfaction in life comes from."

"Yours at least." I snark back at him.

"Not only mine, Mr. Adama. Let's be honest with ourselves. Just look around you." he says, gesturing his arm out to catch the rays of sunlight breaking through the dark green foliage overhead. "Take that vine that you noticed, for instance. A less aware person would look at that and only see plants, admire its simple beauty and unity…"

"And you?" I ask.

He takes a step forward, feels one of the ivy leaves between his rough fingers. "I see a battle of wills." he smiles all too confidently. "I see balance on the edge of chaos, between the forces of resilience and destruction. I see a victory of compromise only attained by hard work and sweat stretched out over years. I see accomplishment, triumph over adversity. My own work reflected in the beauty of this place." Zarek stands there, gently feeling the vicious plant, takes in a long slow look and lets it go. "But then again, why else would you have noticed it unless you saw the same thing?" he says, hiding a grin behind scheming eyes. "We're alike Mr. Adama. More than you want to admit. Both resilient, stubborn…both fighting for our place."

"So are you saying you're the tree, or the vine?" I smile back at him.

He appreciates the sarcasm in my reply, grins with clenched resolve. "Well that all depends."

"On what?"

"On the moment, Mr. Adama. On who you are at the moment."

I take another glance at his plants; contemplate the twisted elegance of his prized collection. Contemplate the man. "Of course, you could just as easily live without one of them. Have one; never have to worry about the other…" I say.

"Maybe." He replies back with a sly grin. "But then where would my triumph be, Mr. Adama?"

A well dressed man with a tray of light sandwiches, upturned, long, engraved crystal glasses and a large clear pitcher of deep amber tea walks quietly up to us, stops and smiles over at Zarek. "The refreshments you requested, sir."

"Thank you Eric. You can put it on the patio table; we'll have it out here."

"Yes sir, and will your guest be needing anything else?" asks his butler, looking in my direction.

I nod that I'm fine, as the man curtly smiles back and walks over to a set of bright green lawn bronze lawn chairs hidden away in a thicket of palms and teal vines, all sitting perfectly arrayed around a delicate looking table sculpted in the same green splotched bronze that seems to float in midair. Zarek gestures with his left for me to take a seat and settle in. I move over to the set up, sit down in the fragile feeling, chair, and pick out a small triangle of bread and something close to chicken. Not bad. Subtle taste, subdued with a spark. Not the best lunch I've ever had. But I'm almost starving. And I'm not here for the light refreshments or the scenery…

"Thank you again, Eric, I'd like to have some privacy now, so if anyone else from the papers call…"

"Understood, sir." smiles his butler as he politely nods again and turns back away into the thick green, leaving us alone.

"Its been such a hectic last few days…" says Zarek as he sits down across from me, pouring himself a glass, a look of irritating glee still scrawled into his body language. "So many calls from the media, old business partners...not to mention my lawyers…"

"Spoken to Mr. Lampkin, anytime recently?" I ask, needing to know just why I should be sitting here across from a man I'd sooner prefer to still be behind bars.

"Nothing more than a courtesy call." he replies. I know he's lying there. I've dealt with Romo enough to know his style isn't to send a "thinking of you" card out to a former client of Zarek's stature. "I did receive a rather obtuse letter from the Mayor's office…something about staying behaved and out of the papers as much as possible…"

"I'm sure it was all in your best interests…" I grin back, taking another bight of my sandwich.

"The only thing Gaius Baltar is interested in now is keeping things quiet enough so that nobody will remember to go to the polls on Election Day so that he'll get back in de-facto." replies Zarek with steely sarcasm, gripping his glass tight with his hand. "But then again, why would I want to worry myself with politics anymore? Is the food to your liking, Mr. Adama?" he says, disarming the tension with a smile.

"It's fine. Quite good actually." I reply back, keeping my eyes locked onto his practiced expression of deniability. "That's a rather interesting statement about Gaius Baltar, coming from you at least. I thought you'd be the first one to be happy he's at the big desk instead of Roslin… Especially seeing as you're probably the biggest reason he's there…"

"My opinion of him doesn't matter one way or another, Mr. Adama." he throws back artfully. "And as for Laura Roslin, well… Like I said I'm not interested in playing that game anymore. These days I'm more interested in staying out of it…which brings us back to why I asked you here."

"I was wondering if you were going to get around to that again." I reply. "Just couldn't see this as you trying to make friends…"

"It is more than that." he admits "But I did call you here as a friend."

"I'm not your friend."

"How's your Father, Mr. Adama?"

_Here we go…_

"Doing well. Enjoying his retirement the last time I spoke with him." I reply; locking up any expression I might give away for him to work with. "Why?"

"Just asking." he smiles. "Wondering how the former Chief of Police has been spending his time while I've been away…"

"No, I mean why are you asking _me_, Zarek?"

"Tom." he smugly corrects.

"Tom?"

"As I told you, I'd very much like to put my past behind me…as do you…which is why I'm asking you about what you know about William Adama."

"I think we're done here…" I reply; pushing myself up out of the light metal chair and taking a stride away from him, keep the sandwich. Frak, I'm still hungry.

"I think it would very much interest you that I've heard he's been keeping a tag on me. Along with several of his other former associates…members of the police…the Mayor's office…"

I don't know why I'm even listening to him. "You know, Tom," I begin again, not looking back at him at first, only to turn back, square in his relaxed face "You have a real frakked up way of making friends."

"Just repeating what I've heard…" he replies all too calmly, pouring himself a glass of tea… "What exactly worries you about the idea of not trusting people, Mr. Adama? Not trusting me?"

"For starters?" I grin, rolling my eyes, trying not to laugh. "For starters, if I were you, I _still_ wouldn't trust Tom Zarek."

"Is that what you believe?"

"I believe a lot of things. Just not you."

"Would you believe that things would have been far simpler if you had just stayed quiet, never given that evidence to my defense? Never pulled me out of the fire when everyone else was all too willing to see me burn?" He takes a long, deliberate sip from his glass, listens to the birds, the light clink of ice against glass. "Good tea. So hard to find people that have mastery over the simpler things…" he says. "You don't have to answer my query, Mr. Adama. We both know what the answer is. The real question at hand…is why were you willing to make that choice?"

The blood in my veins runs slow and cold, my fingers pull into a loose fist at my side. He had to ask that… Sooner or later, _everybody_ has to ask that. Same question… Same question I'm stuck to wake up with, live with, try to drink away, same question that everybody I've met in the last 24 hours is insistent on dragging out in the mud. Same question I'm getting damn tired of not answering…

I wish to hell I had an answer…

"Why is it so important to me that you think you're being watched?" I ask.

That grin. He uses it like a knife, cuts into you, strips away anything in his way, anything he doesn't need… Deadly, dangerous…perfectly harmless. "Because, Mr. Adama." He starts "Someone didn't finish what they began back there."

"Finish what, Tom?"

"You know, I'm still surprised you were allowed to have anything to do with my trial…your Father at least did his civic duty, and stayed out of the way, let someone step in for him…even though everyone knew he was the one pulling the strings for the department's investigation… But you? I guess I should have trusted Lampkin from the beginning about you. He was the first to realize you were an honest man, the only reason why you allowed anywhere near that case. Read even the prosecution wanted to drop you from it until he spoke up."

_Honest man…_ Sure… Whatever that's worth anymore… As if it was ever worth anything.

"Everything was laid out so elegantly. The perfect crime, outrageous and dastardly to say the least… Everyone on the city payroll with a reason to hold a grudge against me sitting on the other side with their own alibi and evidence to my detriment… And finally, you. That was the coupes de grace… There was no way I wouldn't go down with you on the prosecution's side. Your…passionate fury."

"I was one lawyer doing my job. Just the same as the dozen others in front of me. I wasn't anymore important to the prosecution than anyone else."

"On the contrary, Mr. Adama," he snaps back "You were the one person that was there to make sure they accomplished exactly what they wanted."

"I've been meaning to ask you, Tom, who's this "they" you keep brining up?" I ask at last.

"But to everyone's surprise…" he continues calmly, not even acknowledging my question "You didn't close the deal. You even went so far as to break one law, in defense of the law as a whole, as an ideal..."

He lets his words drift through the shining humid air, cling to me like the water droplets dropping down on me from the leaves above. "Are you going to ever get to the point of what this is all about? Tell me any reason why in the hell I should stand here and listen to you lecture me on morality, or make shadowy insinuations about my Father?"

"You're missing the most important thing, Mr. Adama." Zarek replies. "The question on which all of this pivots…"

"I'm not here to bounce riddles back and forth, Zarek." I throw back at his sublime smirk. I can see what he wants me to ask. What he's been alluding to all this time. Just can't stand to give him the satisfaction of…

_What the frak… _

What else have I got to lose?

"The question." I state, my eyes scarping my feet, running along the canyon of glistening cobblestones under me. "Can I assume this question involves the all important "they" you keep jabbing at?"

He nods confidently, his eyes have the same all too worrisome spark back.

"Okay, Tom." I say, letting my teeth grind away in my jaw, fighting my face to not make a move. "What did "they" not finish?"

"The whole point of that trial wasn't to put me away for good, ruin my reputation…" he replies coolly. _Finally…_ "No, Mr. Adama, the whole point of that wasn't to ruin mine at all…" he pauses. Another damned pause as he takes another sip of ice cold tea. "It was to clear their own reputations, Mr. Adama. It was all about them. Well…until it became all about you. Somebody had to pay for that. Didn't quite work the way they wanted it to with me, so of course… Who better to be cast from Olympus but the divine being who dared steal the fire of the Gods?"

_Me…_

"Whose reputations, Tom?"

"That's why I wanted to see you again." says Zarek. "Tea?" he asks, casting a wide open hand over a tall, empty glass.

"I think I'm fine where I am right now." I fire back. "Whose reputations?"

"Suit yourself…it's quite exquisite." he smiles, laying his own glass back gently on the solid surface of the table at his side. "About four months after my incarceration began; I was attacked by another inmate. I still have the scar just left of my right kidney. Luckily, I had made friends with the guards quickly, they saved my life. In the chaos of it, my attacker met a rather ignominious demise, however."

"I remember reading that." I say. "Twenty foot fall over a guardrail and a fast stop tends to do that to a guy…"

"Evidently." He doesn't regret it, that's for sure. "Either way, I survived, he didn't, and nobody asked any questions. Just like they wanted."

"Who?" _I'm getting fed up with asking this…_

"At first, I simply counted myself grateful to be alive. But that quickly wore away as I realized the reason why someone that had no reason to care would try and kill me. Why someone would have _persuaded_ them to…"

"Indulge me…"

"To persuade me to stay quiet. Stay in the shadows. And once they realized that I wouldn't be going anywhere for any substantial amount of time, thanks to your actions, I might add, they decided that more…drastic measures where warranted."

"To keep you quiet about _what_, Tom?"

"You keep asking me who exactly I mean when I mention "them"… The truth is, even I'm not fully sure." he says in eerily resigned honesty. "All I have are my suspicions, all far too numerous to be put to any use in my defense. But names tend to float out of the murky water into the light all too easily to stay hidden forever. Names like Saul Tigh…Helena Cain…Laura Roslin…" he drops each name like rocks in a pond, watches the ripples splash into me as I stand firm to the ground, try and keep my footing. "Even William Adama…"

"_All of them_, Tom?" I snark sarcastically.

"I'm not sure." he says coldly. "That's why I'd like to offer you a job. If you'll take it…"

"What did you have in mind? And no I won't." I snap back.

"As I told you earlier, I heard a lot of things from various sources while I was away. A few of them where even familiar with you, Mr. Adama. Your work… Certain…details of your work best left quiet and unsaid. Names… A few in particular… A former thorn in my side; a Mr. Phalen, for instance…"

"Whatever you might have heard about any cases of my own have nothing to do with what we're talking about now." I say icily. _No point in going into that…_ "You think intimidating me will work as an incentive?"

"Only noting that you have a well trodden history of working outside of the box. Going your own route." replies Zarek with a hint of threatening glee. "Just the man I need."

I stare at him through the thick hot air, study his collectiveness, calm. Still can't read him. No truth, no lies…just him. Just Tom Zarek.

"For what?" I finally ask.

"I do know that I'm being watched, observed. I need to know who's at the other end of the glass. I need some idea of exactly who they are, and why they're so worried that I'm breathing fresh air. And that I might still decide to talk one day…"

"You said the same thing at your trial." I remind him. "Said you knew just who was behind trying to send you up for murder along with your various other misdemeanors…"

"I did." he replies. "And I still do. It's my most precious insurance policy, one that I do not intend to lose to anyone else against my will. Hiding my knowledge of it till now has kept me safe. I can assure you, if anything happened to me unexpectedly, everything I know could be splashed across the front page of a dozen papers within hours. Or I might simply decide to let it all out tomorrow…"

"If you have such an advantage over your enemies, why do you need me?"

"For the simple reason that I don't have the luxury of anonymity anymore, Mr. Adama. I simply don't have the ability to ask questions myself anymore. I just need you to identify exactly who wants me to stay quiet."

"So that…what?" I grin. "You can blackmail them? Threaten them? Maybe even…pull one of your rumored "disappearing acts"?"

"You know better than anyone with the exception of me that there is no evidence that any of those stories are worth anything but hot air…" he smiles back at me. I nod with him all the way, knowing he knows exactly what I'm talking about. Ruined figures in local business, politics, refusals to testify…empty cars with full trunks at the bottom of the bay… One of the inherent flaws of the legal system. _Frakking reasonable doubt…_

"All I want, Mr. Adama, is balance. All I need. Just like my plants…unity in perpetual conflict. Peace through détente. I've spent enough years playing the game, fought enough battles…" he says in serene resign, fingers gripping his glass once more. "I think I've earned my ticket out."

"You want to hire me to _protect_ you?" I ask, just swallowing back a laugh.

"Protect me and you'll be protecting yourself." He replies slyly. "Along with the fact that you're the only man I know I can trust."

"I already told you, Tom…" I reply calmly, silently in disbelief that I've stood here this long. "I'm not your man. Never will be."

"If it's the pay you're worried about…" he begins again, "I can assure you, it's clean. Anything you ask doubled, all from a legitimate account at the time of your choosing."

He dangles his words in the bright rays of diffused light like I'm a starving cat. I walk back to him, put on my best grin, take another sandwich triangle from the tray. I might be starving… But I'm not that hungry.

"Not interested." I state firm as ever, smile wide. "Tom."

I back away with a smile and start down the ivy traced path toward the delicate glass doors leading back into the main atrium of Zarek's estate.

"Since you're not interested in my offer, would you like a ride back to your office, Mr. Adama? A way out, maybe?" he says to me as he stands up out of his chair. "Because I can assure you, it's not as simple as walking out the door. Forgetting your past…"

"I haven't forgotten anything."

"Neither have they, Mr. Adama…" he says "Neither have they. They haven't forgotten about me. And they won't stop until I'm not a problem for them anymore. Or until you're not a problem anymore, either."

"You keep talking like I should be afraid of that."

"Maybe not you." Zarek admits "I can understand after what you went through that you wouldn't feel any motivation for concern…being fired from your position in the city attorney's office, being officially disbarred, your divorce... What's to worry about? But life is such a…precarious thing. You may not give a damn one way or another anymore, but I'm not the only one that knows there are plenty of other people who could have their lives made far more difficult if you don't do something about your past. More difficult than you can imagine…your Captain friend in the department…former colleagues…your secretary… Lot of innocent people, Mr. Adama."

I glare at him for what I wish was only an instant, an instant that feels like an eternity. I can feel the muscles in my hand ball up into steel, heart throttle forward violently, listen to it pound inside my skull. I pull in a breath, let the air replenish in my lungs. "I'd like that ride back into town now." I say, forcing the words out from between my teeth.

My feet clap along the warn and polished stone beneath me, tips of my shoes slosh away the thin film of water clinging to the surface. I take out a clean handkerchief, fold it around my scant lunch, stuff it down in my right, outside jacket pocket. I get to the doors and start to turn the curving brass knob. Hear a familiar voice behind me…

"Just tell me one thing, Mr. Adama. Honestly." says Zarek "Do you really believe that I had anything to do with your brother's murder?"

I stop dead in my tracks, try to keep control, feel the sunlight on my face. "No I don't." I say, not turning back to face him, watching his smug reflection in the panes of glass in front of me. "But I do believe you know who was." I turn the knob, pull the door wide.

"So why not take my offer?" he asks smugly. "Have a chance to get that much closer to the truth? Don't even pretend it's not important to you."

"Don't send anybody looking for me again, Zarek." I reply. "You really don't want to frak with me."

The door slams shut behind me. He doesn't bother to appeal to me one last time. He just stands there, stands in the obfuscating shadows of his garden.

Grinning…

* * *

I stand once more on the steps of Tom Zarek's estate, alone now, letting myself calm down; collect my thoughts together once more, admire the view. I almost can't believe Zarek he had the audacity to even think I'd talk to him. Also can't believe I said a word back to him. Whatever this was all about, it's like Romo said…it's big.

"_Keep this in mind, Mr. Adama… with Zarek a free man once more… plans to settle old scores are about to spring into action. All it needs is a single spark, and this whole town goes up in flames. I thought you'd like to know. After all… whether you like it or not… you're still part of this town. You're the dying flame that lights the way through the fog. You're the spark, Mr. Adama… even if you still won't admit it to yourself."_

I hope he's wrong. Wish to frak I could just walk away, leave the past buried…scared to death that I don't have a choice. I look off into the distant wall of shrubbery and trees, feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I can feel them. Whatever else he might have been lying about, he was telling one truth. I've staked out enough places to know what it feels like for the guy at the other end. I catch a flashing glint in the jade foliage just beyond the stone wall. _Keep it together, Lee… _My mind's racing off the road, losing it at every turn. Could be anything…

A long, black, custom chrome job, car pulls up, window rolls down. _Bout' time…_ "Mr. Zarek said you'd be needing a ride." says the driver. Lucky for me, not the same one I arrived here with…

I stride down the marble steps, reach for the door handle, let myself in the back. "Downtown."

"Anywhere specific?" he inquires innocently. Not innocent enough for me.

"Just take Elysium Drive and I'll tell ya' where to drop me off."

"Fair enough." he grins, pulling into gear and out the long, twisting drive, back onto the street. We pass a sky blue coupe parked on the right of the street; two guys, grey, plainclothes… "Everything's been rush, rush, rush, the past week around here. Everybody in a big hurry to get things back in order for the boss. Really doesn't like disorder."

"I'll bet." I reply with a fake smile, trying to ignore him as I reach in my jacket pocket, use the commute time as a chance to finish lunch. Couldn't work up much of an appetite back there…

"If you don't mind my asking, what did you and Mr. Zarek talk about?"

"Sure he wouldn't like you asking me that?" I inquire.

"Nothing specific." he laughs off. "Not askin' for details, just wondering. I know he's been sorta' interviewing people for open positions around the estate. Was that what it was about? A job?"

I swallow another bite of my sandwich; my mind wanders over the pleated leather upholstery. Right hand goes back in my jacket pocket, fishes around, feels it. Small, octagonal, innocent. I pull it out, gaze into her eyes. More important things to worry about than me…

"_Nothing like knowing that somebody depends on you, huh, Lee?"_

Curly blonde hair, blue eyes, sweet smile. She's smiling back at me.

"_She doesn't deserve this… I don't know what happened. I just want her safe. That's all I'm asking from you. All I want to ask from you."_

I can't remember the last time I ever felt like this…not sure I ever really did. I can still see her; feel her…almost taste her.

_Kara…_

My head snaps up again, looks straight into the guy from his reflection in the mirror. "I've already got a job."


	19. The Best Is Yet to Come

The haunting echoes of better days float through the open windows of my apartment from across the street. Air conditioner conked out two weeks ago, building super's too cheap to fix the system in the building. Not like I'm complaining…wide open windows and a cool evening breeze is all I need anyway. Plus, there's just nothing like sitting back, having a cold beer, and listening to somebody else's record collection from a few apartments over and down. As long as they're _good_ records, of course… Tonight's selection's been a mish-mash selection of big band favorites, a few new songs that just hit the charts…stuff for coloring good memories with. Can't think of too many I'd like back at the moment. Right now it's a sad, slow tune drifting in the thick, steaming air, sung by a woman with a voice that goes down like a stiff drink, the kind you need in your hand when you want to forget about the world, leave it behind. The sky glows a fiery orange as the light fades back below the skyline, the surrounding forest of steel and brick shining in the shaded pinpoints of light flooding out from full apartments, families settling down after a day out, people getting ready to go out on the town, enjoy the weekend. I've already had enough for the day.

I squint hard in the dull amber light; give my eyes a break from the loose pile of paper and photos scattered over the coffee table in front of me. I reach for the cold cheap cardboard box and even colder noodles inside, work my fingers around the sticks and slurp down another mouthful. Not exactly "gourmet"…but then again, what is after two days in a fridge? My wife used to do all the cooking, let me get out of practice, concentrate on more important things like my job…career… "us". Usually just tried to sit back and have a drink, think about nothing. Never felt like there was much to talk about even when there was.

Well…when _she_ felt like there was.

I drop the takeout box back on the floor and reach for my ice cold glass, take a long, deep drink and scan over the puzzle of images and information running wild through my brain. Long last couple of days… First there was one Mrs. Kara Thrace who came in wanting me to find her daughter by way of her husband… Then Romo Lampkin comes out of his lair in the fog with an enigmatic warning about Tom Zarek and a photo that gives me the identity of Mrs. Thrace's husband…Samuel T. Anders, famous pyramid star, missing for over two weeks. An address on the back of the picture of Kara's daughter lead me to a shark by the name of Hotdog who gave me some interesting details on Kara's activities, still nothing on Sam Anders…and an odd detail about somebody else who's been shadowing her… Can't help but feel I'm bound to bump into that guy. Hotdog tips me off to a visit to a Mr. Laird, C-Buck's trainer, guy that knows Sam Anders…but not so much about "Mrs. Thrace". Also picked up the real deal about Ander's "vacation"… Just more questions, way less answers than when I came in. Not one straight answer from any of them. Not until it all lead back to her. That's where everything seems to go, where Romo was telling me to look for answers…all I got from her. I know whatever answers I'm supposed to have, Kara Thrace has them. Even if it just gets me more names that don't ring a bell, more numbers that run together. Still can't be sure if I should trust her.

_FRAK…_ If I even _can_ trust her.

I do want to believe her though.

What the hell is happening to me?

_Business, Lee… Business…_

And then after a few stiff drinks and easy company, I find out somebody's been in my office…and that somebody else is waiting there for me. Couple of Zarek's thugs, probably hired em' cheap right out of stir. Weren't professionals by any means. Still doesn't make sense. Zarek might be back to do what he does best, but having a few of his guys dig around in my office…not really his style. He's the kind of guy that likes his work personal. Quiet…but personal. Just doesn't feel like Tom Zarek.

None of it's on the level. He warns me, threatens me…offers me a job. Then he threatens me again? Doesn't add up… No way would he use that approach unless I really was in…

_**No.**_

Don't want to go down that road. Not for him. Not even for Zak. Not again… Even he'd think it wasn't worth it anymore.

I pull back, let myself fall back into my couch with a heavy sigh, hear the warping springs creak and groan. My head bounces slightly off the soft, deep upholstery, sinking in. Can't remember how times I've fallen asleep right here, how many times I've woken up with an aching back to an empty room. The fact that the bed's just one room away doesn't seem like any real motivation to spend the night on a sagging, worn-out mattress instead of a sagging, worn-out couch. Not like anybody will complain if I didn't.

I throw myself up and forward, knock the near empty cardboard box of cardboard noodles on its side, almost spill my glass. My hand shoots down instinctively, saves the deep amber brew from meeting its doom spilled over the floor. No use letting that good beer go to waste. I hold it up; watch the froth rock back and forth, sparkle in the dying red glow of dusk against the backdrop of bleak grays of my apartment. The glass tips back as I slowly and deliberately down the rest of it in one long arc. The heavy glass comes down hard in my lap, my eyes clinch closed hard and take another sweep over what little I have to work with still staring back up at me. No answers…just questions. Why was she so vague from the beginning about who her husband was? Why send me to somebody she knew instead of one of Sam's "friends" first? Why hadn't she reported any of it to the police? Who was really in my office, and why? What does Zarek want with me? And what…

And what the hell is Romo's angle?

I try and make it a rule never to take a case that doesn't present an easy answer within the first five minutes. Guys in my line of work are supposed to get the answers that nobody wants to believe, not ask questions that nobody wants asked. Stuff's great for cheap pulp thrillers that sell for pocket change at a corner newsstand, not so much for a real job where real people are involved…people that get hurt. My eyes burn, lock onto the small, wrinkled photo in the center of the pile, take in the sunny gold and soft blue nearly buried under dingy soot smeared grays. Out of all the world, why the frak did she have to get dragged into this?

All of this over one little girl…

_**FRAK…**_

Might not be smart…might not even be worth it…

But it's the right thing to do.

I push myself up, lay the empty glass on the table, take the takeout box to the trash and go for another beer. Fine way to cap off tonight's gourmet cuisine. Can't complain…no worse than any other night by myself. Coming back from the fridge, I pass by clean, blank walls, only accented by a few cracks and water stains. I can still remember when they weren't so blank, weren't so empty, when they had more on them than just a fading coat of paint. Well…lose enough people for as many reasons as I have and…

Doesn't feel so bad to miss them smiling back at you.

Even less to fake a smile back at them.

I get back to the couch, slump my tired muscles into the cushions and start to pour the new bottle into my glass. My hand starts to lay it down, drifts over the names and numbers on the coffee table in front of me. Everything seems to blend together. Everything but one number…two words… The bottle goes down; glass goes up in my right hand once more; left picks up the small white, folded napkin from the bar. I feel it between my fingers, light, delicate. Quirky letters gracefully bled into the smooth paper.

"_Call me."_

More soft band music in the air as the last rays of sun disappear in the murky glow of the city waking up to the night outside. I flip on an old table lamp beside me. Deep greens and golds and reds scatter beams of soft light along the room. One of the few things still left over from my earlier life. No point in getting rid of it…it's a good lamp. I take one last look at the white napkin now wilting towards the floor in my palm, stare at the number…the words…

_Kara's words…_

There's a phone on a small, high table to my right near the kitchen area, black and smooth, just like the one in my bedroom. Can't seem to take my eyes off it. What the frak…

No hurt checking if it isn't another dead-end.

I walk over to the table, bring the phone back with me; spin the dial.

One ring.

_Better be for real, this time…_

Two rings.

_Don't know why I'm worrying about this now…_

Three rings.

_Probably not in…_

Four rings.

_Not there…just let it…_

Five rings.

I start to pull it away from my ear.

"_Don't worry Lee. You'll get me again."_

The speaker slides back up to my face.

Six…click…

"This is Kara Thrace. Who's calling?"

* * *

Her voice comes across smooth and warm over the cold hard plastic. The sounds from the street outside drown away. "Just checking if you were alright." I reply.

She giggles playfully over the distance; wide smile's probably shooting across her full lips. "Just checking?" she says, already on to me. "Were you worried about me, Lee? Or is it just a slow night…"

"Same as always." I smile back.

"You sound like a real fun guy…" she smirks, sarcasm laced in her breath. She's got my number alright. "So…what's the reason?"

"You did tell me to call." I reply, hushing each word over the receiver. "Thought I'd take you up on your offer."

"Um hmm…" She pauses, same perky, sensual tone even when she's not saying a word. "And about my daughter?"

"Already checked up on your source. Girl at the office said I'd have the best chance of catching em' in the morning. Said he usually gets called in for weekend work down by the industrial park. Goin' there first thing in the morning."

"Good boy." she answers almost with a whisper. "I almost hate to steal away your entire weekend for me."

"It's nothing. Just my job."

"Do you always take your job this seriously, Lee?" she asks, almost melting the speaker against my ear.

"When it's important."

"Dedicated man… Thank you, Lee." I can almost feel her fingers smoothly stroking the phone in her hand, running through silky blonde hair, along her warm skin… Hear her breathing against the phone, relaxed, easy…

"Well, Mr. Adama…" she says, breaking the heated silence "Is that it? Or did you want to read me a bedtime story?"

"Not tonight…" _Business, Lee…_ "Thought I'd keep you up to date with the case."

"You didn't think I gave you a fake number, now did you?" she asks, biting into my defenses.

"Never crossed my mind." I reply, straight and true.

She giggles under her breath again. I know what that means… "Well, since this is only a business call, I suppose I should let you go now…being that you're such a dedicated man…"

"I'll keep in touch." I answer, not quite wanting to pull the phone away again. Not wanting to admit to myself why…

"Then I guess I'll say goodnight, Lee."

"Goodnight Kara."

I put the phone back down, pull in a deep breath, let it out… Take in another sip in the bold, warm light. Feel a cool breeze blow through the open windows behind me as the echoing song fades back into silence. Another long day tomorrow.

_Gods… what a woman…_


	20. Tell Me Maybe

The smells of exhaust fumes and rotting cardboard burn the glaring orange light of morning cutting across the monolithic gray and silver rusting factories and warehouses of the city industrial park. Oil stained black top under my shoes radiates hot blue steam flowing out again into the sparkling steel bay. Trucks and trains and cranes roar and rattle the golden fog air. The faint aroma of coffee drifts out from the open doors and open canteens of the day shift arriving and the nightshift lugging their way off to sleep. Weekdays are usually slow as sludge for most factory guys, but this part of the city never sleeps, never will. Heavy cargo containers swing high overhead and crash down on the ground, booming echoes clear across the waking city. Loud calls and orders bark down from above and all around, throw in a few colorful compliments, and you've got the tillium driven rhythm to dance through your brain all day long. Soot gray men and women in tattered and patched blue and brown denim shuffle past, coughing and hacking the sleep out of their eyes in step as they huff on cheap cigarettes and trade shots of jet fuel java jazzed up with non-regulation spirits back and forth. Just what you need to start or end any good day… The exhausted lines cast deep purple shadows against the hard asphalt underfoot. Half of them are off, half of them are just starting.

My day's just started.

I sidestep a fully loaded truck rolling past me at break-neck-speed, spewing bits of trash and splashing soupy, black water in its wake. Good thing I didn't wear my good shoes… I spy around, reading faces, screening voices, looking for the one that Kara led me to, hoping they'll lead me somewhere…anywhere… All I want are a few straight answers. My soaked soles trudge along through the boiling puddles of oily runoff towards the cab of a beat up, rusted, orange dump truck idle about twenty yards away. The lady I got a hold of last night told me the guy I'm looking for works for the garbage department, said he's been pulling a long weekend, so my best chance is to catch him early. I don't really know what I'm supposed to ask him that'll get me anything more than what I've got already… I walk up to the side of the rumbling truck, start to look up in the cab and take a step back as a tough looking woman slams the door open and hits the pavement cursing like a sailor into a drab green wireless box.

"Gods FRAKKING dammit, I told you to have all that frakked up crap ready by now!!!" she barks into it, just giving me a quick nod as she takes in a long breath and growls it back. "Well why not?!" I stay back, shoot the breeze; try not to make things worse for her. "Well tell him to…HEY! Tell him to get some guys over there right now, ya' got it? Okay…great… Call ya' later. Okay, pal, whaddya' want?" She catches me off guard as she throws the wireless back up into the cab and impatiently bores a stare my way.

"Well, I'm not here to try and make your day any harder, if that's what you were going to ask."

"Good." she smiles cockily, easing her attack stance and resting an arm against the side of the truck. "Cause if you were, I'd have to kick your ass. So what is it?"

Better not give her the runaround… "If I was looking for Duck, would you be the person to ask?"

"Depends what ya' want him for…" she fires back, trigger ready the moment the words formed in the air. "And who's askin'."

"That would be me." I reply "And it's nothing that should bother you. I just need to ask him a few questions."

"Well, Mr.…?"

"Adama. Lee Adama."

"Well, Mr. Adama, you don't have to ask me any questions. I already told one of your friends that I'll vote with the union. Won't get any fight outta' me. It's hard enough to pay the bills and keep my kids fed as it is. Anything that'll help out is alright by me."

"The union?" _Try not to look surprised…she's not why I'm here…_

"Yeah, you didn't think you were the first to come check up on my guys, did ya'?" she replies, with a suspicious glint in her eye. "Or are you workin' for somebody else?"

"Nobody that's out to cause your kids any problems, I can assure you." I say. "I'm a private investigator. And, I was hoping that I could have a few words with Duck McClellan."

Her smile slides across her grin down to her feet, as she turns on her heel and fires a glare back into me. "Owe ya' any money?"

"No."

"Owe somebody else money?"

"No."

"…he doesn't owe _me_ money, does he?"

"You'd be the first to know."

"Okay…" she quips, resting her right arm against the bright orange metal cab door. "He's over there." She says, nodding off to her far right to a pair of orange and yellow jumpsuits leaning up against a wall, crammed around a portable radio, sipping down steaming coffee and laughing like old friends. "Tall, quiet guy's Duck. Short, obnoxious guy's his buddy Jammer. Ducks one of my best guys. Might be as talkative as a rock, but he'll help ya' out…if you're not up to anything, like ya' said…" Her voice trails off back into a steady glare. She still doesn't trust me… Something makes me feel like I've stumbled into the wrong conversation.

"He can trust me." I reply flatly, firing up a well worn friendly grin her way. "And so can you, Mrs.?"

"Samantha Pollux. And I hope I can, Mr. Adama…can't let just anybody talk to my guys the way things are…"

"So how are things?"

I'm prying… Frak it, I'm curious…

"Depends on who ya' ask." she fires back with worn sarcasm. "If ya' listen to Baltar he'll tell ya' everything's fine, everybody's just whining for no reason, tell ya' we should all just get off our fat asses and get some work done."

"And if I asked you?" I reply, already knowing her answer.

"Well…like I said..." Samantha continues, her gaze sad; fading off into the distant breaking blue fog "It's a real bitch keepin' three kids full the way things are goin'…know what I mean?"

"I think I do." Everybody knows things have gone downhill ever since Baltar took his seat at the big desk four years ago. Stories go that when he's not in bed he's popping off pills and downing em' with enough high end booze to drown out the noise of real life to where he probably thinks he's the most beloved guy in town. Maybe he was once. When everybody was swept up over Zarek…the trial… People have a bad habit of doing stupid things when they all share the same opinion at the same time. Tend to jump way off center, leave their safe place and fly off into the dark. Believe lies that they'd never believe before…even if they'd wanted to all along. Believe people that they'd never trust…even when they still don't trust them. So went the rise of Gaius Baltar. Of course there are only so many labor disputes, contract pullouts, layoffs, strikes, and corruption scams people will take before they start to feel like something's off…that, and the murder rate. Can't remember how many death threats he's gotten just in the last year. The only people saying anything good about him anymore are his staff…well…the ones he pays enough. And then there's those glowing articles about him in the papers…well…the one's he secretly still owns controlling interest in. FRAK, the only reason the police stick up for him is because with all the dirt Baltar's got on them and everybody else in power, it's their own necks on the line if they don't. Just ask Karl what happens when you don't…

All the other story's you'd ever read are always about somebody railing off at him…shooting your mouth off at Gaius Baltar is becoming a popular career. More often than not; the loudest complaints are from the Colonial Worker's Alliance…and their, as always, outspoken president…"Chief" Galen Tyrol.

Moving over to the two of them across the slick, gritty asphalt, I catch the muffled sounds of the small radio sitting in between them on a scuffed up blue fuel barrel skipping channels, voices and tunes and instruments all scrapping and popping at random as Jammer twists and spins the dial, finally carefully tuning it to an upbeat, fast instrumental tune that bounces through the morning haze. I try and keep my stride in check; already wary of who else they might take me for right off.

"Nice morning." I venture with a smile, hands in my pockets, with an upturned salutation. Cheap, but friendly, always good for a start. "Busy day for you guys?"

"Usual." Says the tall redhead with a drooping glance. He sips down another gulp of coffee and doesn't look back. Quiet guy…

"Your name Duck?" I ask.

"Depends who's askin'." comes the trite reply.

"You Union?" asks Jammer with an inquisitive glare.

"What makes you think that?" That's the second time I've been asked that…something big is about to go down. But I'm not here about that. The small photo in my pocket's enough reason not to care about anything else right now.

"Well…you're the only one I see around here in a clean suit." Jammer jokes. "I already told you guys I'm with ya'."

"Well I'm not with the Union."

"Then I'm not talkin' to you." he shoots back at me "And if you're smart, I wouldn't be trying to hassle anybody else around here. Unless ya' don't want your suit messed up…" Duck keeps calm, but wary, raising his eyebrow.

"First of all, I'm not here to hassle you or anybody else." I throw back all so casually "And second, I don't recall asking you anything. I'm just here to talk with your friend, Duck."

"Say I'm not in the mood, Mr.…?" Duck finally replies.

"Lee Adama."

"Say I'm not in the mood, Mr. Adama? Don't really feel like using up my break time getting the third degree…"

"Well I am in the mood to talk." I say "Mainly about somebody else..."

"And who're they?" he asks.

"How about we talk about Sam Anders."

There goes the grin… "Scoring average or defense?" replies Duck with a smirking spark in his eye.

"I was thinking more along the lines of how _you _know Sam Anders."

"Who said I know him?" he says.

"I did." I fire back. "Now how about it, Duck?"

"How do ya' like this guy, man?" Real tough guy." laughs Jammer.

"Did I ask you anything?" I throw at him, hard faced, staring down at him. Doesn't take much to shut him up. My glance pulls back over to where I want it, back over to Duck. "Come on…surprise me."

He holds his short stainless steel cup loose in his hand, twists against the hot corrugated steel wall he's leaning into now, and pulls his arms close to the tough orange fabric of his overalls. "Yeah I know him." he admits at last.

"How?"

"Thought you said you already knew that."

"I said I know you know him. I want to know how."

"He went to High School with him." pipes up Jammer to Duck's obvious chagrin.

"That true, Duck?" I pry while I've still got the moment in my grasp.

"Yeah…" he surrenders. "Good buddies with him, long way back. Played on the Pyramid team with him before he got signed right outta' High School. He's a nice guy. Kept in touch ever since. Even gives me free tickets every now and then. Like I said…real nice guy. What of it?"

I've gotta' play this one close…guy doesn't trust me. Probably doesn't trust anybody. There's gotta' be a reason why… "When's the last time you talked with him?"

"I don't know…bout' a month ago I guess…" he leads, dodging something…. "He gave me a couple tickets for the championships. We had a drink or two, talked old times…nothin' different than usual. You lookin' for him?"

"I'm looking for somebody. Sam's my best way to find them."

"Don't you read the papers, Mr. Adama? He's on rehab in the Cyclades." he snarks.

"Why do I think you don't believe that?" I reply with a long look.

_There it is…_ Everybody's got a tell. Some people keep it inside, keep it close and locked up where nobody can see it. Some people are total amateurs, couldn't hide a lie if their life depended on it… funny thing how many of em' you'll see throwing it all in at the triad tables on payday. And then there are people that want you to know they're lying, want you to see it. Maybe he's in over his angry or in over his head, maybe he's scared, maybe he just doesn't give a frak…but Duck's one of em'. Whoever this guy is, Kara was right to lead me to him. Just what the hell is all this about, anyway?

"What do you want, Mr. Adama?" He's staying his ground, steely…nervous.

_Play it safe, Lee…_

I reach in to my right jacket pocket; pull out the wrinkled newspaper photo of Kara and Sam together. "Ever seen her?"

He studies for a brief moment, his eyes dart up and down as a telling grin slides across his face. "Sure. Couple times. She's his girlfriend."

"Know her name?"

His jaw rolls in his mouth, teeth grind slowly, brow scrunches deep in his forehead. "Kara. You lookin' for her, too?"

"Her daughter." I reply, slipping back into my hand in my pocket, placing the news clipping back in place, and pulling out the small photo of Kacey; let his eyes rest on her innocent smile. "Ever seen her?"

"Can't say I have." he says slightly. Jammer throws back his cup and quickly slurps down his coffee, pulls it away fast like he almost accidentally burnt his tongue off.

"How do you know Kara, Duck?" I ask him amiably, keeping a close watch on him. I know he's hiding something.

"Seen her around with Sam a couple times. Might have said a word or two to each other…nothing memorable, if that's what you're lookin' for."

"She seemed to remember you." I advance, letting the words settle over him in the hot, golden air. "Seemed to me like she thought you'd know where I could find him."

Duck gazes forward, straight faced as could be, eyes right ahead. "Can't imagine why."

Still there…clear as day. _Everybody's got a tell…_

"Well I guess you'd tell me if you thought of a reason, right Duck?"

He stares right through me, cold as steel in the morning heat. Same face…_same tell…_ "Maybe."

The music ends on the radio, replaced by an announcer's all too cheerful voice. Jammer cuts it off and screws the top back onto his drab green thermos just as a steam whistle pierces the calm morning light. "We're up, man." he tells Duck, looking in my direction, wondering just what the frak I'm here about.

"Yeah buddy." acknowledges Duck, pushing off against the weathered metal wall, pouring the rest of his coffee on the ground with a splash, letting the small cup hang by the handle on his forefinger. "Hate to cut this short, Mr. Adama, but I've got a lot of garbage to sift through today." he says briskly.

_So do I… _

I'm not letting go this easy. "If you do think of a reason, Duck…" I say under the rushing noise of a loaded down truck rumbling by "…why don't you give me a call about it." My right hand pulls back, my left producing a card with my office's number on it. "Maybe the two of us can figure this out together." I grin.

His outstretched fingers hesitate…only for a second before he snaps the card out of my grip, gazes down at it, and shoves it deep into one of his myriad of pockets of his orange and yellow overalls. "Maybe…"

A loud honk behind me send the two running past me back towards the roaring garbage truck, Pollux at the wheel and shouting to them to hurry up. They jump on the back and hang on for dear life as the behemoth of a vehicle rumbles past, splashing hot, black water under the muddy tires, a wave of steam fuming from behind. I turn my head just in time to see Duck lock onto me… Inquisitive, curious…worried? His head snaps back away, keeping an eye straight in front of him as the truck barrels away from me, ducking into a side street behind one of the identically rusted white buildings.

_Everybody's got a tell…_


	21. Just My Name

It doesn't take a genius to find out about somebody you don't know without raising their suspicion. Doing it with style… Well, that's why I get paid.

A few innocent questions with some out-of-the-box improvisation around the industrial park gets me a little more info on my lead. Duck's a new guy, hasn't been around long enough to make too many friends apart from his buddy Jammer, doesn't seem like he's in the market for any more. Guy's almost all upfront, doesn't shoot his mouth off, doesn't have much of a reason to. Married, works overtime more than anybody else. Good guy. He's got one card up his sleeve, though. Duck's a shark when it comes to Triad. Turns out he's cleaned house more than once over a "friendly game" after work with the guys. From what Kara told me about what she knew; it's a good guess that Triad's not his only game…

"_He's a guy that Hotdog's placed a few bets for in the past…"_

If Duck really was friends with Sam, which I've got no reason to doubt, it goes to reason that he's probably getting some inside tips from Sam. Also starts to make sense of something else Kara told me about Sam…

"_I wasn't completely honest with you the first time when I told you about Sam… He was having troubles. Pretty bad by how loud he'd shout over the phone. He never would tell me what it was about, but I've a thing or two about following him around, watching him… All I know is, he was talking to this guy the day before he and Kacey walked out. I'm pretty sure he didn't do it, but I'm also sure he knows more than he thinks he does…if you get my meaning…"_

Did she believe that Sam was talking to Duck that day? Can't be that simple…unless Duck knows the people that Sam was arguing with. Good reason to keep his mouth shut. Even then…

Can't be that simple…

_Not with my luck._

I fumble around in my pocket for my keys as I make my way to my apartment door. Pass along the darkened corridor of bad, faded taupe wallpaper, now barely hanging to the walls. My shoes glide through squares of white light glowing on the hardwood floor shafting down from the windows along the hall, and move past one, two, three doors, two of them up for rent again, the third one occupied by a Ms. Lyla Ellway, recently separated, and her two kids. Deadbeat of a husband just walked out one day, never looked back. I caught up with him eventually. Turned out he was running around with some girlfriend of his, finally got tired of the home life, I guess… Piece of garbage got some slick lawyer to pull him out of it. Last I've heard he hasn't so much as tried to mail her a check in over a year. She makes it okay, though. Works her ass off pulling double shifts all the time at the diner down the street. Doesn't pay much, but she manages to get by. The unmarked envelope full of cash that gets slipped under her door every now and then helps a little more. But you didn't hear that from me.

Trails of red and blue crayon swirl along the bottom of her scuffed white stained door…_and mine_… _I'm gonna' get those little…_ I get to my place, number 1400, pull out my keys and notice the yellowed envelope corner just peaking out from under the door. The lock clicks open, and I push the door in, let my feet hit the doormat. I reach down and pick up the wide envelope, feel its weight. No return address. Just my name.

_Lee Adama._

I toss it over to my coffee table and start to close the door behind me.

"Gotch you!!!"

I spin around to the shrill voice piercing out through the empty hallway to see Lyla's two boys Dash and Dipper lurking on the floor just behind me. The seven year old, Dash is clutching on to his toy pop gun and wearing his gold foil police badge I gave him last Colonial day. His five year old brother, Dipper's wiping his nose on his long red sleeves and pushing back his oversized vintage flight helmet. Name's not really Dipper…everybody just calls him that.

"Hi guys" I say, glaring down at them "What are you doin'?"

"Playin'…" replies Dipper, with a snort on his brother's shoulder.

"Yeah, we're just playin' Mr. Adama." says Dash with a huge grin across his face.

"Hey, guys…" I start, looking back over my shoulder to the unassuming envelope lying on my table inside my apartment "You didn't happen to see anybody hanging around here today, have you? Maybe waiting around outside for a while?"

"Uhhh…nope!" blurts out Dipper with a smile.

"Yeah, we haven't really seen anybody" explains Dash "cause' we've been playin with Jolly; and his Mom let us eat cookies, and then we went out to da' street and played Pyramid, but then we had to come back in cause' his Mom told him ta'…"

"I get it." I smile down at the two, wondering if chewing them out about the crayons would be over the line. "Haven't seen anybody."

"No." replies Dash. "Do we get sumtin' if we do?" he asks, doe-eyed.

"Maybe later…" I say, reaching back for the door handle to go back inside. "Say hi to your Mom when she gets home, okay?"

"N'kay, Mr. Adama." says Dipper.

"Okay, Mr. Adama." says Dash, just as he bolts back down the hallway in hot pursuit of his little brother. Cute kids…remind me of when me and…

_Frak it…_

* * *

I shut the door behind me, pull my arms from my coat jacket and toss it onto the couch. I walk over to the kitchen, and pour myself a cool glass of water from the leaky tap. My head's still ringing a bit from the night before with questions with no answers and cheap beer, and the exhaust fumes from my morning excursion to meet Duck. Still can't work out exactly why Kara thinks he can lead me to Sam and Kacey. Not sure if Duck wants to show me, either…

Sure as hell hope Kara's right about Sam not hurting Kacey…

I lift the sparkling glass and take slow gulps as my feet carry me back to my couch. Outside, car horns blare, and engines rev and screech to a halt. Searing hot air creeps in through the cracked windows. I place the glass next to the envelope and flop down into the sagging spring cushions. My head rolls back, my eyes squint shut, and my arms stretch out wide. I've still gotta' cash the check Kara gave me. 10,000…all in advance, no questions. Smart guy wouldn't think twice about it. Not one in my line of work. Lot of stuff I could use it for to make life a little easier for a little while. My lungs pull in a full take of air, let it back out slow and easy. I'm still behind on some alimony payments…not the ones I really owe, just the one's her lawyer's been hitting me up for. My head rolls from side to side, I watch the ceiling rock from right to left. Plus…there's that bonus I've been promising Maggie for the last several months… I'm sure she's getting a little tired of smiling every time I tell her I'm working on it… Gods know she's earned it. Hell of a way to make a living.

_What the frak am I doing here?_

I push myself forward toward the unexplained envelope sitting in front of me. Doesn't seem like Kara Thrace's style to slip something under the door…she likes it up close, personal. In your face. _My kind of woman…_

My fingers grip the rough surface of the heavy paper, rip the top free. Several sheets of photo paper fall to the smooth surface facedown. I take a quick look inside the envelope for a note or anything to tell me who might have sent it…all I see is the empty bottom.

The phone rings.

My left hand lets the envelope drop and reaches for the photos…phone's still ringing… _Could be Kara… _The top photo flips over as I bolt for the phone. My hand fires out for it, pulls it fast to my ear.

"Hello?"

"Hi…" says the low, gruff voice over the speaker. "How are you?"

"_How are you?" _I think, rolling my eyes at the question. _Real original…_

"Same as always…" I resignedly reply, glaring out at the afternoon sky. "What do you want?"

"Just thought we could talk…it's been too long."

"I guess."

"Are you doing anything this afternoon?"

"Not right now. Nothing _important_…" I inadvertently bite out, clamping my fingers too tightly against the hard, black plastic casing.

"I was wondering if maybe you could come over. Just a few minutes." he ventures. "Talk…like old times."

"Just talk, huh?" I ask almost sarcastically. Don't really want it to come out like that. Not like I really care. It's been long enough…and we both know the score.

"Just talk." he says "I promise."

I know what that means… It means anything but just friendly conversation. Not like we really even have that anymore…

"I'll um…" I say, twisting back on my heel, back into the shade from the light "I'll try and drop by."

"Great." he replies low over the phone. Not a smile…not now. "I'll be here."

"Yeah…" I sigh, eyes dragging on the floor, shooting up to the ceiling "See ya'."

I don't wait for him to say goodbye. No point. Wasn't gonna' say it anyway. Not like him. Never has been. Whatever words like that used to mean don't hold any weight anymore. Not anymore… The phone clicks down soft.

Worst thing is I know I'll go anyway…

I drift over to the window and rest my arm against the wall, stare down into the street. Bright, shiny day. A cool breeze flows through into my apartment, filling it with fresh air and the smell of hot concrete baking in the sun. Cars and people hurry below like ants scurrying to rebuild a kicked over anthill. Almost wish I could worry about what they do…wish I could really want to even more. Last thing I needed was a call from him, I think as my brain gets flooded with everything I wish I could forget, every reason why I'm here and every question why _he isn't…_

_Let it go Lee…_ I take a deep breath; feel the warm light on my face, the sweet breeze in my hair…

Can't get her out of my mind…can't let go of her…

All of this over a little girl…

I turn back and round the back of my couch, my eyes briefly fly over a few photos lying scattered on the table next to the torn open envelope. My cramped shoes shuffle leisurely over to the front of the couch, and let me fall back into my seat. Reach for my glass, and look down at…

_What the…?_

I pick up the first one, study it closely…let it drop…gaze at the next one…and the next one…and the next one…

All the same…

My hand slowly picks up the empty envelope, stares down at it… My jaw clinches tight, forehead tenses into a glare. No return address, no names. Just my name

Just _my name…_

My mind fires back to the last few days. So many new faces, so many more questions…and now _this_… Can't tell if it's a warning or a threat. Probably both… My thoughts fall back to the other night at the bar…and my conversation with my only "friend"…

"_Keep this in mind, Mr. Adama… with Zarek a free man once more… plans to settle old scores are about to spring into action. All it needs is a single spark, and this whole town goes up in flames. I thought you'd like to know. After all… whether you like it or not… you're still part of this town. You're the dying flame that lights the way through the fog. You're the spark, Mr. Adama… even if you still won't admit it to yourself."_

I guess I'll pay Dad a visit after all.


	22. When I get to the end of the road

"27th floor. This was it, right, sir?" politely asks the young bellhop.

I pull my eyes away from the small creased photo of Kacey, slip it back in my pocket, and shove off the back wall of the elevator. "Yeah…my floor."

He presses the smooth button to open the polished wood and bronze elevator doors, and offers his immaculately cleaned arm out into the even more immaculately decorated hallway. I nod to him curtly, and walk straight out onto the crimson red carpet. I move past old, fading paintings of landscapes and seascapes on overly ornate gold frames, all perfectly aligned, not one out of place. The faint scent of freshly cut flowers arranged delicately in a vintage porcelain vase drifts from a table at the far end, up against a tall, slim window looking out onto the towers of steel and glass all around and below. Nice place. Way beyond my neighborhood. Everything's so…clean…elegant…quiet. Nothing like my place. More like where I used to live…my old place…my old life. _With her…_

Whatever… Not what's it's cracked up to be, anyway.

I turn a corner in the hallway to my right and punch in the clear button to the doorbell glowing a soft yellow, wait with my hands in my pockets.

"Be right there." says a familiar voice, just beyond the door. The deadbolt clicks open, a small chain slides across the surface of the door, and the knob jars open. Always was the type to be wary of everybody. At least I got that from him…

"Hi son. Glad you made it."

"Hi Dad…thought I might as well drop by."

"I'm glad you did. Been too long."

"Yeah…" _Almost wish I could agree…_

"So?" he grins with steel blue eyes "Gonna' come in, or do you want to stay out in the hallway?"

"Do I?" I ask, quickly burying whatever sign of friendliness I give off.

"Why don't ya' come in." He turns around, and walks in, followed reluctantly by me. He walks slower than I remember…more labored. It's a hard thing to think of him…my Dad…as mortal… Not really something anybody ever gets used to. Probably never should. Even if he was always a shadow…just a voice telling me and Zak goodnight from beyond a barely open door, somebody to ask about report cards and ball games. Nothing deep, nothing personal… Nothing important. Still…he is my Dad.

At least that's who I've always seen him as.

The living room is bathed in soft light from the partially shaded arching crystal windows opening out onto the balcony, with an eastbound view of the city below. Silent as always, too high up for the clamor below to disturb the perpetual tranquility colored in golds and rich earth browns and reds.

His place lies in a state of perpetually planned disarray, everything out of order in just the right way. Just the way he likes it. Same as me, I guess…he's just got a hell of a lot more books. Full shelves of dog eared, old books with yellowed pages climb up to the ceiling. Old pictures of awards ceremonies and city functions hang proudly on the walls…Dad standing proudly next to Mayor Laura Roslin at his retirement ceremony…and one of us. Dad…Zak…and me. Back then. When we were a family. _Whatever that's worth. _

The photos run in two lines…one for him, one for me… Me in law school, Zak starting out at the Academy… Me graduating with my degree, Zak graduating with his new badge… My wedding, all smiles, everyone there, even Mom and Dad. Celebrations after my first win, Zak celebrating his promotion to detective. My second anniversary, big night out on the town…Zak and his new partner Karl Agathon in the background…all smiles…

No more photos.

Just a painting of a boat on the waves under a stormy sky.

A large book on sailing ships bathed in afternoon shadows lies with its wide pages open, precariously close to the jumble of small glass bottles of model paints and frayed paintbrushes, all waiting under his model ship on the coffee table in the center of the spacious living room. He's been working on it since he retired. Not everyday…just whenever he wants. Just a way to pass the time, do the things he'd never had time for before… Nice place on a retired Police Chief's salary. I guess you can give Mom some credit for it, too…well…her family.

"Care for anything to drink?" he asks, turning back to me.

"No, I'm fine…had enough last night, anyway."

"Really?" he chuckles softly with a piercing grin. "You don't have to live off it, you know, I've got coffee, too."

"Yeah…I know. I'm fine." We both know life's crap for the both of us. No point blowing the room up over it.

"Suit yourself… How's your mother?" he asks, quieter now, as I walk over to his worn, rich red leather couch and drop down.

"Fine…no complaints, at least. She did ask about you…"

"What did you tell her?" he questions,

"What's there to say?" I retort almost by habit. "Told her you were fine…enjoying your days…same for when she asked about me."

"You don't have to lie for me, son. Save that for yourself." he smiles, his grin fading away with the bitter taste of every memory the both of us want to forget.

I know he's trying to lighten the mood, but we're already past that. Way past… Get your head back in the game, Lee…

_The pictures…_

"So Dad, have you kept up with any of the guys from the force?" I ask, innocently lifting my gaze from my shoes and over to him.

"A few of em'." he states gruffly, pouring himself a coffee on the kitchen counter. "Saul keeps me up to date on most of what's going on. Promotions…department shuffling…he's been busy. Especially with the Union threatening to strike in an election year. There's gonna' be hell to pay if that breaks."

"I've heard about that…read about it at least." I say, remembering all too well the feelings on the docks from this morning. How close everything is to exploding, just like…

_Just like Romo said… _

Just don't get why the hell he thinks _I'm_ so important…

He sits down at my right, looks off out through the windows and takes a smooth, steady sip before laying it down on the table, even closer to his vintage book than the loose scatterings of still-wet brushes. "Not looking good." he sighs "Even worse now that Zarek's…"

"How do you mean?" I quickly jump in.

He turns to me, bores into me with steely eyes, cold and fiery. "What do _you_ think?" he growls under his breath.

Can't help but notice all the stress on _"you"... _So much for the nice chat…

"Let's just say that, Saul's not going to be taking too many vacation days for the next few months. Almost makes me wish I could help him out... Gods' know he's not gonna' go any easier on anyone else…especially himself."

"Been watching Zarek a lot, huh?" I bait innocently.

"I wouldn't know. I can't speak for how Saul runs things, and I can't speak for how Tom Zarek runs his life now." Dad states all too flatly. I don't hear a lie…maybe I'm just getting paranoid… Only I know that's true…

"He's a _private citizen_ again," he says, scowling every other word "so as long as he keeps out of trouble…"

"That doesn't sound like the Saul Tigh I remember." I reply with a grin. "Or the department, I remember, either…"

"Well…I'm not the one running things anymore, am I?" he states coldly. I know what _that_ means…

I try and pull back into myself, let things go, let em' slide. "Ran into Karl the other day…finally got his promotion"

"Good for him. Saul tells me he's been working his ass off." Dad says "Probably should have had it months ago…Gods' know he deserved it. Especially with a new family."

"Why do you think it took so long?"

There it is again…that look… _"You"…_ Dad cups his hands, pulls in his shoulders and looks back off into the open air. "Because I'm not the one in charge any more. Saul is."

"So why does that make a difference?" I throw back.

"Because he's all about loyalty. Trust. Always has been. Prove to him he can trust you…that you're in for the department…the badge… Prove that and you'll go far… Don't, and…"

"And you spend your days writing up parking tickets…" I finish for him, my words tainted with bile "Just like what happened to Karl after he contradicted the department's story. Or after he was honest?"

"You do not want to go there, son…"

"Why not? It's been over six years…"

"Not for me." I catch his eye drifting over to the picture frame, full of smiles and sunlight, snapping back to the arcs of shadow and light cutting through the shaded windows. "Some things you're not supposed to get over."

"And I have?" I say, choking back my anger at what he really means.

"I wasn't the one that got that man off." he growls "I wasn't the one that pressured a good officer into…"

"Who was the one that always said to follow the truth wherever it leads?" I as exasperatedly "That the law was meaningless if it wasn't upheld by people that weren't in it for their own interests and vendettas?"

"That was what your Grandfather always used to tell you." he replies with a sigh, letting his head drop away from me. "And I thought you would have learned something from what happened to him."

"He was a good man. That's what I remember."

"He also made my job a hell of a lot harder. Made every good cop in this city's job harder. Defended the kind of people that didn't give a damn about justice."

"But he did."

"And he paid for it, too." Dad states solemnly. "That's what I remember about him. Why the hell you're still in such a hurry to end up the same way, I'll never…"

"And what about Zak?" I throw back, letting the words slam through the still, bright air. "What about him? I mean, what…what was I supposed to do? Throw Zarek to the mob just because he was the first one in line on the department's hit list?"

"You know damn well about what that man did." Dad fires at me "What _you know _he did."

"That wasn't my job." I growl back under my breath. "My job wasn't to play favors just because of who the old man was."

"That was never what it was about."

"No. No it wasn't. That wasn't why I wanted on the case…why I could walk in there every frakking day, and look that bastard in the eyes, and actually consider that maybe everything hadn't fallen right in my lap like everyone wanted it to. Like I wished it had. That maybe, he _wasn't_ the right guy. That was was I was there for. Only that. I owed more to Zak. And so did you. We both owed it to him to get the right guy. My job was to follow the truth. _Wherever_ it lead."

"And it still is?" he asks with a searing, blue-white glare. "Just look at yourself, son. How much of yourself have you thrown away because of that? How much have you lost?" I turn my gaze away from him; start to look over to the photo hanging on the wall across from me…turn away, feel the emptiness in my soul and the raging storm in my head. "How many times are you willing to kill yourself over what happened, Lee?" he asks with a hushed roar. "Because that's exactly what road you're on, son. The same one that your Grandfather went down that he never came back from, and nobody is standing in your way…not even me. You're right. You do owe him more than that."

I rock myself in place for a moment, and push myself back out of the deep cherry red couch. Almost lose my legs under me, fight the anger to stand up straight…and look him square in the eye. "You're right." I surrender with a snark. "I do."

"Where are you going?" he asks me as I make my way back to the door.

"You're totally right, Dad. I do owe him more than just this. I'm just not done yet."

"With what?" he asks for what feels like the thousandth time…the same way it seems to always end every time we talk about it. _Every frakking time…_

I stand there, feet on the door mat, breathing the fury out of my lungs…sucking it right back in. "When I get to the end of the road…" I start to say, turning the doorknob "…I'll tell you. See ya' around, Dad."

* * *

The door clicks shut behind me as I stand firm, and slide down against the wall, breath out…let it all go. My hands push in against the sides of my head and run rough through my hair. Just let it out. I didn't come to argue with him. Never do. Gotta' stop lying to myself one day about how it'll turn out…how I know it'll all turn out. Same as today. At least I know one thing…

Police Chief Saul Tigh's been burning overtime for a chance to take down Tom Zarek. And Dad knows it…and unless he's as oblivious as he is honest, Karl Agathon knows it, too… No surprise he didn't want me talking to him. He's still getting over the last time we helped each other out…

And then there's Romo…like that piece of the puzzle that even when you think you've got all the other pieces right where they should be still doesn't fit… I know I'm not paranoid anymore. I've been in this life long enough to know to trust my gut when I should. Just still not smart enough to listen. Not now. I reach in my pocket once more, feel the creased edges of the small photo, think of Zarek, think of Sam Anders, think of Zak, think of Kacey, think of…no…_feel Kara…_ _Too late to play it safe now, Lee…_

I check my watch…4:17 in the afternoon… Game starts up in just a few hours. Time enough for a quick swing back by my place, brief invite to Racetrack for dinner at Joe's…she always did like a good Pyramid game. Not the real reason I'll ask her, though…

Too late for me…maybe not too late for Maggie. I owe that much too her.


	23. Let Go

"_It's a wild night here at C-Bucks' stadium, with the C-Bucks once again taking the early lead, only tonight to have their late second quarter drive frustrated by the comeback's of the night, the Picon Panthers' defensive team of Mueller and Perry. We're coming to you live over the airwaves from C-Bucks' stadium, I'm James McManus, with my wingman Sekou Hamilton, and you're listening to game two of this year's electric Colonial Pyramid Association Playoff Finals. The crowd's really going wild waiting for the second half to start, and we now take you courtside to our very own Playa Palacios for a close take on the action. Playa, what's the atmosphere with the C-Bucks' coaching staff at this moment?"_

"_Well James, they're really scrambling through the playbooks to come up with a way to stop the…"_

The radio crackles over the roar of the partying crowd filling Joe's to capacity. The doors are all open, people coming in and out of the buzzing street for a drink, a bite to eat, or just a chance to listen in on the game with a little company. Speakers hang on the outside brick blasting out the radio commentary of the game to the full patio tables on the sidewalk and people still waiting for a booth inside. Good thing I got here early. I lay back against the wall, sinking into the faded grey and blue thread upholstery of the third booth from the back. My fingers tap along to the incoherent soft music bouncing its way from Dragon's group of under paid, caffeine, stim, and smoke addicted musicians, getting in a quick set between the break in the game. Lots of new faces tonight, with a few of the familiars having a drink or ten as they fly back and forth with the barstool strategizing about what went wrong, what went right, and what'll win em' the big money in the end. Conner's serving drinks and laughing with them, Diana's running around taking orders and making sure everybody's getting good volume from the show playing on the radio.

I'm not really here for the game, though…

I keep a close watch on each new face, each stray glance in my direction. Feel the slim, black leather bound portfolio lying between me and the wall, just out of sight. I've got too much on my mind to give a frak about the game. Way bigger things to worry about now…other people to think of…

All of this over a little girl…

"So, boss…" asks the dark, elegant woman in a low-cut pastel green and white floral paisley blouse standing over me "Mind explaining how you convinced me to come to this dive and have to listen to the second quarter in the ride over here? Never heard of a real restaurant?"

"I've just got your number, I guess." I smile back.

"Oh no…" she grins back with a daggered glare sharp as glass "I've got yours." I grin back, laugh. Racetrack always makes me smile…always has.

She slips down into the booth, slides over the seat across from me and lays her purse down against the wall. Out of sight, right where she can get at it, just like always. I'm not the only one that likes to play it careful.

"What'll ya' have?" I ask her as she takes a sweeping glance of the action from our quiet corner of the room.

"Just something light… Gotta' watch my girlish figure, remember?"

"You've been doing a good job so far…"

"Only because I don't listen to you." she smirks with a knowing glare.

Diana makes her way through the crowd over to our booth, smiles happily despite the full load of plates and drinks resting precariously at her side. "Hi Maggie. Haven't seen you in a while."

"Yeah…everything's been really hectic…" she replies "The boss has been workin' me to death lately." Maggie looks over at me, triad-faced with an evil glint in her eyes. The same on that Diana gives me…

"Hey, I haven't made you work overtime in three weeks, and the one time I asked you to, I let you off so you could take your cat to the vet after he attacked your mailman."

"Well I had to take care of Max! After all, he could've gotten anything from that guy. Gotta' look after my baby." she giggles all too innocently.

"How's the family, Diana?" I ask.

"They're great. My little nephew gave me this cool thing he made in art class, all made outta' scraps of paper and glitter… So, Lee, you ready to order yet?"

"I think I'll have the special for tonight… Maggie?"

"I'll have that, too."

"You sure?" I ask "Did you even notice what it is?"

"Not really…"

"And you trust me?"

"Course I don't." she replies with a fierce glance. "I'll have that, too, Diana." she smiles bitingly back at me.

"Alright, two grill samplers comin' up" says Diana. Racetrack shoots a scowl in my direction…I can't help but just smile back. Diana pauses just as she starts to turn away. "Drinks?"

"Tea!" blurts out Maggie. "Gotta' get my way on somethin', huh, Boss?"

"You win this round." I surrender. Maggie shifts forward and toward the edge of her seat out into the open, strains her ears to listen in on the game's commentary.

"_But as well as they've been holding things together, once again," says the woman over the airwaves "the C-Bucks are obviously missing their star player that's held them together throughout this entire season. I know the Panthers are definitely wishing him a long rest in rehab in the Cyclades as they continue to burn their way through the…"_

"Gods, I could use a vacation like that…" Maggie exclaims "lie in the sun, feel the sand under my feet…get paid for doing it…" There's that smirk again… She tilts her head, deep, dark eyes lock on to you, eyebrows rise seductively, nose scrunches up with the lines of her smile. I fell for that smile a long time ago…almost convinced myself I'd fallen for her. Sure as hell glad she helped me out of that one…

Time to let it out, Lee…

"Who said he's on vacation?" I ask, straight shot, direct.

"Wha…who? Sam Anders?"

"Yeah, _him_."

"Everybody. At least everybody I've heard from, all the papers, the radio…"

"What if I told you I'm pretty sure he's nowhere near the Cyclades?"

She sees it…knows it… Maggie slides back into the booth, leans across, soft voice "Just what's in the portfolio, Lee?"

"The reason I asked you out for dinner." I reach in my coat pocket; pull out an octagonal envelope with crisp, silvery-blue check with still slick ink. My check, my endorsement, her name…

"What's this?" she asks me, taken a back as I hand it to her. She opens it, looks it over, head pulls back. "Wow…well, um…frak me…thanks for the bonus. It's a little more than I was shooting for, actually…a lot more…"

"It's not exactly a bonus. And you might not want to thank me just yet."

"Special occasion? My birthday's not for a few months…"

"It's not a present." I say flatly "Think of it as a way out."

"I don't ge…" She flips the check over and back between her fingers, starts to get the idea… "It's the new case isn't it, Lee? The blonde, right?" _Gods…she really does have my number… _"How about we not worry about this for now…" Maggie slips the check back into its envelope and back to me "And you tell me, what you've been doing the last two days."

"I can explain it a bit easier with these…" I start to pick up the portfolio, Diana swoops back in with the tall iced teas, slides them across the smooth surface of the table as I pull the portfolio back out of sight. "Here ya' go guys. Food'll be up in about six minutes…busy night…" she says.

"That'll be fine." replies Maggie with a cordially friendly smile.

I grab onto my glass, take a short sip while Maggie does the same. Her eyes roll down to the hidden evidence I was going to hand her. "What's up, Lee?"

I quickly give it back to her; carefully watch her reaction as she slowly shifts through all my evidence collected so far… "Cute girl…relation to our new client?"

"Something like that…"

The insignificant crinkle of a scrap of unfolding newspaper wrinkles through the air.

"Is this? Is she with who I think he i…"

"Dead on. That's him. Got it from Romo Lampkin…" I tell her. She's asking me why I just said that name with her dark eyes. Frak explaining it for now…plenty of time for that later.

She gets to the photos I got this morning. Don't have to guess what she's thinking…

"_What the frak have you gotten into this time, Lee?"_

Her fingers delicately slip one photo over the other… "Talk with Karl, huh?" she asks under her breath without looking up.

"Yep."

The dim light glows on the black and white photos in Maggie's hands. Flip over and over again, sighs long and deep… "I seem to remember telling you not to get in over your head…" she says.

"Well that was three days ago…"

"Why'd you change your mind about the blonde?"

"What makes you think it's about her?" I ask, off guard.

"No guy ever got himself into this much trouble over anything else…"

"And what great observer of the Human condition said that?"

"Me." she grins back slyly.

"Well it's a bit more complicated than that, now…" I say.

"I'll bet…" Maggie slips the photos back together and takes a long, smooth drink from her glass, plops it down on the table with a hard ring. "So Boss…" she starts to ask, her eyes filled a million and one questions that I she knows I don't have the answers to "Mind telling me what the blonde that walked into your office has to do with you being in a picture with Tom Zarek?"

"How long ya' got, Racetrack?"

"How long ya' need?" she asks with mock reticence.

"It's a long story…" I sigh.

She lays the portfolio down on the table next to her drink, eases back into the worn cushions like a wisp of smoke in the deep, warm glow of the room. "Good thing I got all night, huh Boss?"

* * *

I pick over my empty plate; glance over at the now cold bits of food that Maggie left alone on hers. Always the health nut… I look back at mine push it away before she looks over at me again…I was already full anyway…

"So…" Maggie leads back into our conversation "Why do you think Romo Lampkin gave you a warning?"

"That I still can't work out…I know one thing, he's not the kind of guy to work without an angle. Then again, I still can't figure out who the guy is to begin with."

"All I know is, the last time you got wrapped up in his business…" begins Maggie.

"I know." I stop her immediately "But like I told you, he called on me. And for some reason, he thinks he "owes me"…"

"Doesn't sound anything like the guy you've described to me. Or the guy I've read about in the papers…"

"You should read what they've written about me…" I joke.

"You think I haven't?" Maggie grins back.

"Anyway…" I cut back in "All I know is, for whatever reason, he's taken an interest in my business…and he's not the only one."

"I can see that." she replies, leafing through my small collection of evidence once more, through the wrinkled clippings and creased photos "I'd say all of this was over Zarek by the looks of the one picture, but..."

"But if it's about him," I finish for her "then who the frak was taking photos of me talking to Captain Agathon, and Mrs. Thrace hours before I was even contacted by Zarek's goons?"

"Exactly."

"What's your feminine intuition telling you, Racetrack?"

"It's telling me you don't even know the definition of "in over your head", Lee."

"Besides that…" I scold her.

"You want my honest opinion, Lee?"

"That's why I pay ya'…"

"Okay…" she sighs, leaning back in close across the table to me; I do the same "One, Mrs. Kara Thrace walks in your office asking you to find her daughter who she says isn't in the slightest danger from her husband who she neglects to tell you is Sam Anders, who's been out of town for over two weeks, and who every kid on the street can tell you isn't married. Not to mention all she's done is doubletalk her way around telling you anything beyond what scraps of paper she's had you bouncing al over town for."

"Doesn't add up, does it?"

"Two, the only guy that you've heard has any possible idea about where he might be doesn't seem to have any reason to be up to anything apart from scamming triad games, which for now adds him up to be a nobody."

"Just what I thought."

"Three…Tom Zarek, only after a few days of being out of jail, risks sending some hired morons to get you to have a talk with him, which ends up being all about trying to make you paranoid of everyone and everything that has anything against you for what you did for your brother back during the trial…"

"Part of the reason why I asked you here…" I start to explain.

"Couple more things, Lee…" continues Maggie, dead serious as I've ever seen her "And after all of this, somebody just happens to slip a folder with your name on it, and surveillance photos going back to the morning after you met Mrs. Thrace…no reason, no note, just the photos. Just enough to get you looking over your shoulder every other heartbeat like you're about to get a bullet in the back of your head from the shadows."

I don't say anything…I already know exactly what she's getting at. Nobody needs to say a thing. The crowd roars as the C-Bucks make another goal.

"Care to take my offer, Maggie?" I ask her, pulling the envelope with the check out again. Laying it softly under her gaze.

"What's the offer, Boss?"

"Enough to make up for that bonus you've worked your ass off for…and enough to hold you over till you can find more work. Safe bet. It's the best I can do for you, Racetrack…"

"Sentimental reasons, huh, Lee?"

"What?"

"I seem to remember sitting over there, by the bar…" she starts to say, arching her gaze over to the crowd surrounding the bar "been a long week, sick of my job, sick of a lotta' stuff… I caught a fleeting glance of a guy, sitting alone, pile of empty glasses in front of him… He looked sad, and I was kinda' lonely myself, so I walked over asked him his name…"

* * *

"_You really want to know?"_ he said, sad eyes, worn out…

"_Well that kinda' depends…"_ I said, all friendly as he frowned at his own reflection…

"_I'll warn ya' I'm lousy at conversation."_

"_Well I can take up the slack…How about just a name?"_

"_It's a bad idea wanting to know me…"_

"_Alright…"_ and I smiled at him at sat down by his side _"I've gotta' know now. Maggie Edmondson."_

"…_Lee Adama."_

* * *

"I'm still no better for you…" I say under my breath, cutting back the smallest lines that might betray a smile.

"Like I give a frak." she replies, pushing the envelope back to me, not so much as a blink of hesitation "What do we do, Boss?"

"Racetrack, this is serious. I lost everything the last time I got involved with that man…those men. Everything. I don't have the right to drag you down with me…"

"And you also don't have the right to keep yourself miserable for the rest of your life." she fires back.

"That's not all this is about…"

"You're damn right it is. That's what it's always been about. For some reason nobody's got a problem dropping you on your ass the second things turn a corner and start to get tight. The city…the department…your family…your wife…even yourself. I've known you long enough to know I'm not the one that can pull you back up…" Maggie's eyes glisten sadly, her hand reaches out to mine, softly grasps on, and she smiles the sweetest smile "But I'm not gonna' let you go. I'm not lettin' go, Lee. You're not gonna' push me away."

I surrender with a sigh, let my breath escape back into the electricity of sound waves blaring around us. "You're some gal, Racetrack."

"I know." she smirks happily "So Boss…what's the next move?"

My mind rips itself back from the only good memories I've had from the last five years, back to the case…back to Karl, Duck, Zarek, Romo…

_Kara…_

"There's one thing you left out about the case, Racetrack…" I say, taking the portfolio in my hands and unfolding the unexplained black and white photos to the light.

"What's that?"

"How the hell does Romo factor into this? He knew about Sam before I did…"

"Somebody's gotta' get back to him…" nudges Maggie. We both know it goes nowhere without leading back to him…

"He came to me. He's my problem. That and I'm pretty sure he wouldn't like the idea of me telling you about him…"

"You sure he already doesn't know?" she quips.

I shift around; take a long, slow scan of the room…turn back to Maggie, who's thoroughly bewildered. "Not unless he's a master of disguise along with being a slick lawyer." I joke.

"There's a difference?" Maggie laughs.

I giggle quietly for a moment, look back down at the photos…and the little girl…_Kacey…_

"Okay Boss," asks Maggie with her perfectly sly grin "what's my job?"


	24. Guilt and Legality

The marble steps of the Caprica City Hall of Justice gleam a sooty ivory in the bright sunlight. Making my way up the steps, black portfolio in hand, I dodge and weave past city employees all skittering up and down their own path to and from work, loaded down with full brief cases jammed with stacks of crisp paper, and minds racing with thoughts of thoughts of deals, and compromises, and meetings, and everything else it takes a good education to have any right to get heartburn over. All the things I used to worry about. Before the trial…before life caught up with me and slapped me down the rungs. If I had any brains, I would have learned to be grateful.

I pass by a kid at the top of the steps, a young newsboy hawking the Caprica Times for loose pocket change. Run of the mill news… Pyramid scores from last night, C-Bucks on top, more election previews, local guff… As I dart by him, one headline in the bottom corner catches my eye briefly…

**Tyrol Threatens Strike If Demands Aren't Met**

Looks like the union's finally getting restless…big surprise… I think back to Pollux and Duck and Jammer…

"_Well, Mr. Adama, you don't have to ask me any questions. I already told one of your friends that I'll vote with the union. Won't get any fight outta' me. It's hard enough to pay the bills and keep my kids fed as it is. Anything that'll help out is alright by me."_

"_Depends on who ya' ask… If ya' listen to Baltar he'll tell ya' everything's fine, everybody's just whining for no reason, tell ya' we should all just get off our fat asses and get some work done."_

"_It's a real bitch keepin' three kids full the way things are goin'…know what I mean?"_

But that's not why I'm here now. It's just after 10, so I know he's here…with his game, he's probably already won.

I walk through the tall steel and glass doorway into the cavernously spacious white marble foyer, my footsteps echoing off the walls and domed ceiling like lonely ripples in a frozen pond. The air's practically freezing compared to outside, thanks to the super efficient central air system quietly hissing just below whisper level…well…and the unassuming Parian marble column holding up a small, bronze plaque. There's a name engraved on it… I already know what it says. No way in hell could I ever forget it…

Moving through the frigid rush of air, I make my way to the elevators, just in time to snatch a ride to the third floor in the crowded elevator. He better be here… Met up with Maggie back at my office and set her on the trail first thing this morning. I figure having her check up on Duck and his friends through official channels is a good way to find out about their activities within the past several weeks. She always did have a way of sounding discreetly innocent when it comes to prying into other people business over the phone…must be the laugh. No luck on getting back with Kara last night. Must not have been home I guess…_hope…_ Maggie's the only one in the world, I know I can trust, but Romo's the only one I know has any answers. The answers…about Sam…Zarek..._about Kara…_ Every instinct I have tells me she's bad news. So why the frak did I try and ring her up twice last night?

Every step I don't take wastes more time. If nothing else I've gotta' do it for her daughter…_for Kacey_.

I'm not gonna' let it happen to somebody else. _Not again…_

Third floor, the doors slide wide, a faint stream of smoke escapes from somebody's discarded cigarette smoldering on the polished stone floor passes through me as I step into the hallway. Shades of grey and blue masquerading as clean, pure white. Same as everything in here, everyone in here. Defenders of righteousness, justice, the rule of law. Everything I had the bright idea to stand up for.

What I lost everything for.

The walls clap along to the rhythm of my shoes, my right hand clamps onto my well worn necktie, pulls it up again as I make my way over to his side of the building. Romo Lampkin's playground… Court.

* * *

"The defendant will rise."

I quietly slip in to the back row, far back from anybody else aside from a couple dozen other observers. Small trial, at least compared to Romo Lampkin's usual clientele. Can't quite work out why… The client stands up, followed by Romo, stiffly arching over his cane. _Gods…_

The judge reads over the small note on blue paper once more before laying it down and looking over to them.

"Eric Chu…on the charge of armed robbery in the first degree, this jury finds you _not guilty_."

Stifled gasps and aborted applause burst through the muffling silence.

"On the second charge of being an accessory to armed robbery in the first degree, this jury finds you _not guilty_."

More of the same deafened excitement and outrage…

"On the third charge of conspiracy to commit armed robbery in the first degree, this jury finds you _not guilty_."

About two and a half minutes, and about a dozen other _"not guilty"s_ read off with more than a little awe, the gavel cracks hard, and everyone jumps out of their seats, some shouting, some applauding. Romo's more than relieved client drops his head like a yo-yo and grabs out for his savior's hand, shacking it tightly in astonishment like he's been reborn. The star of the whole thing politely grins, creaks over to gather his papers into his overly sized, scuffed and beat up briefcase, reaches in his pocket for his black sunglasses and nods his exit. Mr. Chu and I guess his wife run to each other, holding on between the aisles as Romo Lampkin makes his silent egress from his latest victory.

Just the way he likes it…

"Congratulations." I say to him as he approaches me lounging in the back, the smallest twinge of sarcasm in my face.

"You're quite welcome, Mr. Adama." Romo smiles back, looking down at me like he knew I'd be here… I just know he did…

"Kind of small time for your usual league…" I remark casually.

"I'm a man who prefers to not lose any sleep over the knowledge that justice wasn't carried out." he replies with overly worn rhetoric "That…and it helps to keep my ego smaller than what everyone wants to imagine. Never a good idea to live up to your own edifice of fame."

He keeps on walking past. "Of course…" I retort with brows raised cockily in his direction "You know he's guilty…right?" So I don't know word one about the case. So I don't know anything about the now redeemed Mr. Chu. Might be a family man, and a damn good one. But I do know Romo Lampkin… And no way in hell would he be caught playing the violin for some poor charity case.

"Everyone's guilty, Mr. Adama." He doesn't flinch, doesn't even turn around. Just stands there; rolling his head from side to side…and grinning. He's still turned around where I can't see his face, but Gods' know he's grinning. "The law…the law that I practice isn't really about guilt or innocence… It's really all about nothing but matters of legality. I suppose that was your problem from the start…"

_How the frak does he do it?_

"And what was that?"

Romo side steps Mr. Chu and his wife; both thinking the world of him as they take their time to thank him once more. He politely nods parting salutations to them while they walk out of the room, and finally turns around. "You still don't know?"

"That's not why I'm here."

"Of course it's not." he agrees under his breath, eyes quickly scrapping over the black portfolio at my side. A young man with a bright yellow notepad in his hands approaches Romo from the aisle. "Mr. Lampkin, Ars Keldar, Caprica Times. I was hoping I could ask you a few short questions about your latest case."

"Certainly." nods Romo "I always have time for the press. As long as you promise to get my answers straight."

"No problem, sir." Keldar replies cordially, leading the way out into the hall. Romo turns on his cane and leans down. "Meet me in the fifth floor, east wing hall in ten minutes. I'll try and be as brief and to the point with this guy as I can."

"Why there?"

"Quieter." he snarks innocently "Best keep this thing you're going through that way. We have a lot to talk about, Mr. Adama."


	25. Justicia Ut Imperitive

It's been fifteen minutes. I sit crouching on the flat cushioned bench against the wall of the hallway, staring now and then at the still elevator doors at the far end of the hallway. Nondescript numbered wood doors add to the monotony of the silent wing. Soft light from the windows, cold as stone sets the drab hallway a glow. I hold the black portfolio between my clamped hands, flipping it end over end over end, running my thumbs along the smooth, octagonal edges. I can't drop my worries over what's in it. What it means…

Gods' know, Romo Lampkin's the one to ask.

I'm all alone, except for a lonely piece of elegantly sculpted Parian marble on an ebony marble pedestal in across from me. It's ancient in subject, but modern in composition and form, the figures small yet dynamic. Three figures, one a man, turning away in derision, turning his back on a nymph like woman with sad eyes holding a set of scales. Behind her, swirling up from the base ebony, a winged young woman brandishing a sword rises with outstretched pinions, black as night, ethereally threatening, but bereft of any passion or feeling. On a small, octagonal bronze plaque is a simple engraved inscription that must have meant something to someone once….

**Procul Totus Vicis,**

**Justicia Ut Imperitive.**

_**At all times, justice as imperitive.**_

Like I said…I'm sure it meant something to somebody.

The elevator bell chimes, as the heavy rolling rumble of the doors open and slide shut at the far end of the hallway. An irregular, awkward shuffle echoes off the marble and mirrored stone corridors. He moves through the shafts of searing light like a column of blue smoke. I half expect him to disappear every time he steps back into the shadows. Romo walks towards me looking all too ghost like to ignore, sunglasses grin at me all too wolf like to ever trust him. I can't believe I'm already in this deep. Can't imagine why I'm thinking of asking him for a shovel to keep going.

I just want Kacey safe…

"Mr. Adama…almost surprised to see you so soon." he says, still at least twenty paces away "Can't imagine it has anything to do with wanting to catch up on old times, so…"

"You can imagine whatever you want." I tell him, lifting myself up onto my feet, portfolio in my clinched right grip "You know what this is about."

"Do I?" he smirks innocently.

"Keeping a close tab on me, huh?" I ask, firing a glare at him as he slowly limps over to me "Couldn't trust me to do your little errands for you?"

"For a rational man, you have a more than colorful way of describing the world." he replies, finally getting within normal conversational distance.

"And for somebody that's been acting like my job's a source of amusement, you might have to consider needing that cane for real if you don't start playing straight with me right now."

"I'm not the one that wanted to talk." he shoots back "You are… What happened?"

I let out a growling sigh, clinch my jaw and try to rest my fury long enough to get down to the business at hand "Apart from finding out that Sam Anders has some interesting friends…"

"Thought you'd get the hint." he says with a low wink.

"How the hell did you know?"

"About what, Mr. Adama?"

"You damn well know, Romo. _My business_."

"Yeah, but do _you know_, Mr. Adama? What is your business? Of course, I don't really have to ask that question, seeing as we both know that you wouldn't have bothered to come back if you'd put all the pieces together already. What's that in your hand?"

"You tell me." I snarl at him, handing it over to him. He takes off his glasses and opens it up, but keeps it close; casually peeling through the photos I had left at my doorstep yesterday like he almost expected something better. A part of still wants it to have been him. Easier that way. At least it'd make him wrong. And you never want Romo Lampkin to be right. Cause if he is...

You're frakked.

"Well…" he gruffly remarks with his gravely voice "They completely missed your good side."

I keep my glare locked on him; keep him as serious as I need him to be.

"What did you and your friend, Mr. Zarek talk about, if you don't mind my asking?"

"I do mind, and why don't you tell me?"

"You really have been a busy man, Mr. Adama…so many new faces…" he ignores me, just keeps flipping through the photos, just keeps grinning "Although I recognize one… Got your friend, the policeman in with ya' now, huh?"

_That's enough. _My right hand fires forward, ripping the portfolio out of his hands. "Answers. Now!"

"You think I gave you these." Romo flatly states "Or at least…you're hoping I did. Hoping I wasn't telling you the truth back at the bar about the life you've chosen for yourself. Well I'm sorry to say, Mr. Adama, but I don't have anything to do with you being followed around. I don't take the slightest amusement from the maelstrom you're about to be drawn into, the one I honestly told you about."

"You didn't tell me anything." I retort back, my fingertips digging into the soft cover in my grip.

"I told you to watch your back. And believe me, that's more than anybody else in this town is going to tell you…at least, more than the ones that already have a knife aimed at your back…and at your heart."

"What makes you think you're the only one that's sang me that song? Tune's getting pretty old, Romo."

"Because I know that's what Tom Zarek told you." Romo lays back the stare and lets the words settle into me like I snake waiting for the venom to pump through my veins "It's what he's been wanting to tell you for a long time. Make you paranoid; get you looking in all the wrong directions…all the ones he wants you to. All the ones _they_ want you to."

"And what about you?" I ask him, my words sharp as a rasp against his smoky defenses "One thing I will tell you about our brief conversation is he told me he had a short chat with you. Anything I need to know?"

So I don't know what it was about, probably is nothing. And maybe I am a lousy liar compared to the honorable Romo Lampkin… But it's worth a shot. _Put everything into this one, Lee…_

"Business." That's all he says. All I expected. All I needed…

"His, yours, or _mine_?" I growl with a clinched jaw and tightened fists at my side.

"Like I told you already, Mr. Adama…this isn't about me."

I can't believe I'm even humoring him with this one… There must be more than a few people that wouldn't mind reading about Romo Lampkin having to walk into court with a black eye… I wish I could see myself doing that…but then, that wouldn't be me. As much as I hate him…loathe him… _**Frak…**_

"What is this about?"

"Your problem, Mr. Adama. It's all about you."

"_The law…the law that I practice isn't really about guilt or innocence… It's really all about nothing but matters of legality. I suppose that was your problem from the start…"_

I lower my voice, ease my stance back, ease into his world "What's my problem?"

"Do you know what that means?" Romo asks, breaking the tense visual standoff between us and glancing off to my right…of to the sculpture.

"Sure. The ancient civilization of Kobol was one of my required courses in university. Rather academic, but I can at least read…"

"I'm sure you have a scholarly grasp of the words…" Romo slights "But what does it _mean_?"

Can't believe I'm wasting my time on this… "Since you already have your own answer…" I hint at him.

"Oh no…it's your answer. Procul totus vicis, justicia ut imperitive… _At all times, justice as imperitive. _It's from a poem originally, albeit an obscure one that's largely swept under the rug by most people these days. It's one of those all too annoying allegories that has nothing to do with heroes, or demigods, or great victories, that children might get read once or twice at temple service, and forget because they were too doe-eyed and rosy cheeked to let go of their own cozy imaginings of the world and accept the harsh reality of what it meant. But you didn't. You remembered exactly what it meant."

I try and hide my confusion and irritancy at his latest game, fight to seem relaxed and passive. But I can't…not really. Get to the godsdamn point already… "My family never was what you'd call spiritual."

"You think I never noticed that?" he grins with a sparkling glint of kinship. Can't imagine him as praying to anything beyond his own intellect…and I'm pretty sure neither can he. "Well, it does help to know these things…at least academically." he continues "You see, it's not really a story about the Gods…it's about us. Flawed, damaged, imperfect Humanity. That's who the first character is…" Romo says, nodding towards the man walking away from the Goddesses. "Now the two young ladies behind him are the Goddesses Themis and Nemesis… Ring a bell?"

"Themis was the ancient Goddess of justice…the law."

"Not so much the law, Mr. Adama…not the law I practice by that measure. Not the law of men. The law of nature. The natural order of things that must be respected and observed, even beyond whatever writ and prose that men might devise for themselves to keep order… She's not _legality_…not _my law_, not the law I practice… She's _your law_, the law you practiced and still insist on observing…" He carves his icy glare into me, into my soul like an ice pick, a gleaming spark lights his eyes. "Morality, Mr. Adama… She's _morality_."

It's enough for me to give the small sculpture another look. She looks even sadder now, lonely even. The spurned Goddess watches with loss and dread as the arrogant mortal charge turns away, bitterly casting her very existence from his mind. And behind them both, the deathly black wings of a bird of prey extend over them, bleeding a deep, menacing shadow over the ground.

"And Nemesis?" I ask "I don't remember her being connected with justice… Just destruction."

"Devine justice…if you believe in that sort of thing," Romo torts "can be the most destructive thing there is. Even righteous justice. That's the lesson…the meaning. The wheel of fate so venerated and feared by men over all the ages…only less now. We can do everything by the rule of law…our law…" he pauses for a moment, looks away and almost chuckles "…my law…but when we go against morality…_your law_…well… Can you hear the fluttering of Nemesis' wings, Mr. Adama?"

He pauses, looks away for what feels like an eternity. Nothing but the still sound of the A/C, and low rumblings of the elevators creaking up and down. "You know, that statue there used to be in the main lobby…stood there for years, first thing people saw when they came in everyday… Even then, most everyone ignored it…except for me…and him… Joe Adama. I always read that inscription same as he did, but your Grandfather…his mistake was he didn't just read it. He lived it."

I wish he'd shut up right now…leave the man in peace. Leave me in peace… I look away from the blurred distance to see Romo do the same. He's not stopping.

"After he was murdered…" he gruffly continues with a tired sigh, each consonant scrapping his throat like nails on a blackboard "Well…some college educated genius in city hall decided to honor him by giving him a memorial that would make people remember him… Sad little bronze engraving with his name on it and some sunny forgettable phrase that everybody's supposed to remember his contribution to society by… Might as well have tacked up a greeting card from a five cubit drug store for all it's worth…" He lets out a deep breath of frustration and looks back at the marble figures. "But that…" he says, leaning on his cane and pointing his free finger "That is Joseph Adama. His true creed. His life… And now it's your life, Mr. Adama. Your torch to carry. That picture you had…the blonde girl…"

If he didn't think he had my attention already, he's really got it now.

"I know you well enough to know you take your job seriously, Mr. Adama…and the confidentiality involved therein… But you know you wouldn't have snapped at me about taking her picture like I did if you didn't care. If it wasn't just…some other case…" There's that light in his grin again…the kind he shouldn't be able to have about something he shouldn't have the damndest clue about… and right now, he's the only one with the clues I need.

"How the frak do you know about her?"

"Do you still have it with you?" he asks smugly "Not the photo of the girl, I know you've got that one tight to your chest…_to your heart…"_

"_Remember this, Mr. Adama… Don't loose your heart. They can't take that from you. That… you have to give away." _

_**Snap out of it, Lee…**_

"The newspaper, Mr. Adama. Where did it lead you?"

I start to think about how I shouldn't tell him, how it's still not on the level… I reach in my coat pocket, and pull out the wrinkled and fading newspaper clipping of Sam and Kara out on the town, unfold it between my fingers and look down at it, put together the pieces once more… "Just to the fact that Sam Anders never went to the Cyclades rehab…and that nobody's seen him for over two weeks… Same as the girl."

"Did it now…" Romo grins, angling his eyebrows sharply in and out "Any theories?"

"Apart from the one that he ran off with his kid that nobody seems to know anything about…of course," I snap back "that's where I'm supposed to go, isn't it? The easy answer…"

Romo smiles all too gleefully "Only…?"

"Only, what the hell is this for if that's the right answer?" I reply, briefly flipping the clipping into his view.

"What else?"

"I did talk to a friend of his…small time triad shark that works for the city garbage department… All I found out is he's in on whatever Sam was… Now, what…well…" I trail off, looking over at Romo, searching for any tell about what I might have missed by intention or design "…that's got me stumped for now."

"Why should it?" Romo asks, more than a little surprise in his voice "Thought you would have caught it by now…"

"Caught what?" I ask, taking another hard glare at the black and white image of Sam and Kara at some City gala…

_**FRAK…**_

I am that kind of stupid… All this while, I've been looking at the picture…running over the words under it every time… Every godsdamn, frakking time…

"of the annual Art on the Rocks gala hosted by former Mayor Laura Roslin. Also in attendance, Pyramid star Sam Anders (pictured above), and **Mr. and Mrs. Galen Tyrol** were just some of the ma…"

_**FRAK…**_

I look up, astonished reserve cut all into my face; realizing Romo already gave me the next clue…but why? And what the frak does it have to do with…frak, _everyone_?

"You're next step, Mr. Adama…" Romo smiles, seeing the spark go off in my mind "You want to find the girl? Protect her? You want to save yourself…?"

He doesn't have to finish, so he doesn't even bother to. He turns around, and starts to painfully limb back to the elevators. He still didn't answer me…the answer I don't really need, but want more than anything…

"How the frak did you know?" I shout down to him as he pushes the button for the elevator. A time more than a moment, but less than a few passes, the bell chimes, doors open…

"Word is you can find him dining with his wife and a few associates at the Faru Sadn hotel this time of day. Likes a small business lunch first thing of the week." he tells me "Hungry, Mr. Adama?" he winks, slipping on his sunglasses, smiling at me as the heavy metal doors roll closed.

I take a quick look back at the statue…at the words… Not so quick a look, really…

Procul totus vicis, justicia ut imperitive…

_At all times, justice as imperitive…_

I guess it means something to me, now…


	26. Change Will Do You Good

I make a quick run back to my apartment to drop off the portfolio, keeping all but the least private pieces of evidence inside, and watching my back all the way. For now it's locked away in a safe in my closet, out of sight, but not out of mind. That's not for anybody but me, Maggie, and Romo to know about for now. Well…

_And whoever the frak took the surveillance shots…_

* * *

Funny the type of guys that'll work for tips… They wake up everyday in their hole-in-the-wall of an apartment after four hours sleep and a triple shift, fight their way down the hall hoping to hell the building's water heater might of miraculously survived the fifteen other people at the front of the line to not pelt them with ice cubes when they get their turn under the tap, put on their monkey suit of a uniform, cram into the back of a bus, or catch a train if they're careful not to get there "on schedule"…run around all day in a bomb factory of a kitchen full of scalding steam and stinking dishwater…all for the chance to catch a less than blasé glance from some business type in a cheap rented sportcoat and a few cubits under the table for getting them a couple feet closer to a fountain. Not that I'm knockin' it, though… Frak, they probably make more than I do…

After slipping the third busboy along the line a twenty to get into the main dining room of the Faru Sadn hotel's four-star restaurant, I follow him up the rich red carpet lined steps, past some overhanging palms, making my entrance into the main hall. High, sharp angled glass windows reach up into the sky in front of me and to my left. Bronze and steel gleam in the hot sun outside. My head tilts up into the 15 story high open space above me. People move to and fro along the concourse balconies of each successive story, moving in and out of their rooms, or just peering down over the glass barriers for the view. The soft rush of water crashing down over the pyramid form stone fountain in the front atrium echoes forever off the endless expanse above. The air's cool, swirling in the heat of the sun reflecting off the crystal walls soaring over me. One of the best spots in town to bring a date…really sweep a gal off her feet with champagne by candlelight and violins… I haven't been here in years…

The busboy scoots me over to a table near the edge of the room baking under the hot glass; big enough for two people, more than enough for me. He asks me if I want anything to drink, and I politely wave him off to ask later. Not to shoot him down for doing his job. I'm just not here for lunch… I look across the room to see about a half dozen people in business suits in drab browns and blues and grays around a table. And him…

He's done well for himself…real well. His tailored suit and straight, strong posture speak volumes of the guy that started as a high school dropout knuckledragger for the city. Worked his way up the ranks in his early years to be his own boss. Got the name "Chief". Everybody calls him "Chief"… Got active in the union, which back then was nothing but a smokescreen for Zarek's empire. Didn't take him long to go up that ladder too. And then he did something nobody saw coming. He split. Wrested the union out of Zarek's control one man at a time, one polished and impassioned speech at a time. Even went so far as to work with the police to hand over most of Zarek's big time partners. And then there was the trial…Zarek went away, and all of a sudden, Tyrol had a whole load of new toys to play with…and nobody to watch over him to make sure he played fair. If you ask the man on the street, they'll tell you he's a born leader, pillar of the community… If you ask Mayor Baltar, he'd tell you it would have been better off to have tried and railroaded Tyrol when they had their chance with Zarek. And if you ask the police…

They've been finding empty cars with full trunks in the bay again…

I'm already here, so that's enough of an in…almost… And there's the deal maker…

I get up and move over to the young woman in blue staring out the windows. She runs the long strand of pearls around her neck through her fingers, shoots her eyes back and forth between the floor and the sky. Intense eyes…full of indifference and anger… Keeps her back to the full table the whole time…doesn't hesitate a quick glance over her shoulder at her husband, though…

"It's a nice day…" I say, passively watching for her first reaction.

"Sure is. Could dial back the heat a bit… I didn't catch your name, Mr.…?"

"Adama. Lee Adama. I do know your name, Mrs. Tyrol."

"Really? I've been getting that a lot…" Her voice trails towards frustration…seems like the press has been trying the same angle I'm using to try and get a few words from her husband. Not gonna' be easy…

"It's not like that… Frankly, I couldn't give a frak about politics anymore…your husband's or anyone else's."

"That makes two of us." she replies, still staring out into the daylight.

"Actually it's about Sam Anders…" I slide in, hoping to sound like an old friend, hoping I'm right about that actually mattering…

"How's he been?"

"Sam?"

"Yeah…we haven't seen him since the last Art on the Rocks party, or night out, or whatever it's called."

_Got it…just it safe, Lee…_

"Really? Talk to him any?"

"Nothing memorable… Galen did most of the talking…they go back…"

"Do they? Never told me about that…"

"Yeah…he said he knew him from back in High School or something like that…but then again, he keeps up with everybody he's ever known, so I can't ever remember if I'm telling it straight or not."

"Good friends?"

"Didn't really look like it the last time… He's a great guy, but I could pick up a weird vibe between him and Galen…"

"Weird?" _This is getting interesting…_

"I don't know what it was…" she sighs, finally looking in my direction "Seemed like things were going great, and then Sam pulled him off outside... I didn't ask what was going on, but whatever it was about; they both looked pissed off at each other. Almost shouting…"

"So what happened?"

"They both stormed away, didn't say another word to each other. And I know you're going to ask, so no, I didn't ask what it was about."

"But you did see it…"

"How do you know Sam, again?" she fires, eyes fired with suspicion "I don't remember you telling me."

"Mutual friends. I just recognized you as one of his."

She bounces it back and forth through her mind, pro to con… She smirks ever so slightly. "Well it's nice to meet you, Mr. Adama. What do you do?"

_Private Investigator…yeah, that'll go over well…_

"I help people when they have problems."

"Sounds like what my husband says he does…" Mrs. Tyrol replies almost divisively, too wary for my comfort.

_Play your hand, Lee…_

"Okay…" I sigh, reaching in my jacket pocket, feeling the creased edges between my fingers, pulling it out into the sunlight "I'm actually a private investigator…"

She starts to spin around, walk off…

"And before you make any conclusions, I did tell you the truth. I don't give a frak about politics. I don't work for the police, Baltar…anybody you have to worry about. I'm not here to cause any trouble for your husband."

Mrs. Tyrol turns her weight on her heels, stares through me with a glare as intense as a welder's torch "Why are you here, Mr. Adama?"

"You're a mother, aren't you, Mrs. Tyrol? I don't pry into people's business when it's not my case, but I do remember that bit of info from somewhere in the papers…"

I let lie in my open palm, right under her gaze. She reaches for it, holds it gently at the bottom edge for a moment, eyes firing back at me "It's about her, isn't it? You're not thinking Galen has anything to do with it are you…?"

"No. But I'm hoping he can help…"

"Because he _doesn't_, got it?" she growls at me with a clinched jaw. Touchy…

"I'm sure he doesn't. Just need to ask him some questions."

"And why exactly is that, Mr. Adama?"

"Do I have a "yes"?" I ask, raising my brow, and tilting my head over toward her husband's table.

She gives me back the photo and rests her hands on her hips, staring over at him, contemplating everything she knows I haven't told her. If I don't have an in, I'm back to nothing…

"Sure. But I introduce you, got it?"

"That's what I had in mind." I tell her, stepping out of place to follow her over to her husband, now in the middle of his own problems…

* * *

"Look, we're going to have to make a move someday, and if we don't take the chance now…"

"And I agree with you. Everything you're saying, Chief. Everything! But just what makes you think that the people of this city are ready to take a chance like that?"

"Because they already have. Don't you see, they already are making that "chance"! Think about it…ten years ago, what were we? Just a bunch of nobody's that had to wade around Tom's mess just to get listened to. Look around. Time's changed. We're not just a bunch of no-name-knuckledraggers anymore. Have you seen how many people show up for the rallies recently?"

"Well, I can't argue with that…"

"They're not afraid anymore, Xeno. And they don't have to be. Why should we?"

Mrs. Tyrol quietly leans into her husband in the double-breasted olive-green suit, pulling him out of his fiery rhetoric long enough to get his attention in my direction "Galen, there's someone that's here to see you…"

He looks me straight in the eye, doesn't bother with the up-and-down stuff. Doesn't matter to him. He's a people person. Doesn't matter how straight your tie is, or how much muck's caked onto your shoes. All he cares about is if you're somebody that's there to listen…or some guy that's there to talk…

Really hoping I'm coming off as the first guy…

He pulls his head back, stretches out his arm "Have a seat, Mr.….?

"Lee Adama." I tell him, pulling out a seat from the next table and sliding in across from him between a couple of his guys.

"Wait… Yeah, I know you." he points, "You're Bill Adama's son. How is he these days?" His tone's laced with accusation… Frak this, I'm the one with the questions.

"My name's _Lee_ Adama. That's all that's important."

"So it is…" Tyrol grins, alert, and gleaming confidence "Well, Lee, what do you think? Think this city's ready for a new day?"

I'm still not sure what he's asking me…sarcasm always works, though…

"New or better?"

"So you're a realist, I take it?"

"Just somebody that's seen enough to not get excited over people promising the same old dream."

That hit a nerve… There was a time when I wouldn't have bothered to let anybody in on what I thought of them… That isn't today.

"You know, Lee…" says Tyrol, still glinting control and grasping his steak knife between his iron grip, sawing into his food as he smiles amiably "I get you. I really do. I think I was you once…"

So he wants to pull me into it… Couldn't hurt as long as it's an in…"May I ask what changed your mind?"

He smiles…serious, but he's still grinning "Tell me…what could make a man fight for something that even he isn't sure he can ever win?"

"I'd guess if he believes in it strong enough, that…"

"No. Not that. Belief's never enough. But the way I see things…it doesn't have to be. There's something better." He jabs his fork into the strip of meat and quickly rams it down.

"What is?"

"What do you do for a living, Lee?"

"I'm a private investigator." I fire point blank, watch for his next move.

"No surprise there, I guess…" he retorts slyly, sipping his drink deftly with his freed right hand.

"Why do you say that?"

"I don't know… Just seems like a good fit for an honorable man like yourself who's… No, forget I said anything."

"Who's what, Mr. Tyrol?" I can't quite hide the annoyance or frustration in my voice…not quite sure he cares…

"Just noticing that you don't seem to have much faith in people." he states coldly "Doesn't fit you, but…"

"I thought you said beliefs weren't enough?"

"I'm not talking about beliefs. I'm talking about faith. If you believe something, it's usually because somebody told you that it's the truth…"

"But?"

"But if you have faith in something…someone… It's because _you_ know it's the truth." I'll give him this…he's got that. Faith that he's doing people a favor…Gods know that they needed somebody like him. But then again…that's not all he does. "Why did you become a detective, Lee? I know about all the fallout with Tom, but…why a detective?"

"It's a job, isn't it?"

"And that's not an answer." he chides "Odd line of work, really…for an idealist…"

"And I remember you calling me a realist."

"Nobody gets jaded over something he doesn't give a frak about… Especially when it comes to helping people…"

"I _help_ people?" I throw back, icing my glare with a smirk.

"I know you _want to_, Mr. Adama…"

"This leading anywhere? Cause it's not why I'm here." I ask him after a long pause, only now noticing the half dozen other people around the table again.

"Only making a point." grins Tyrol. He lets out a deep breath, sits up straight, businesslike, serious "Well then, Mr. Adama…my wife tells me you needed to talk with me…"

"In private…" I shoot back politely "Unless you're indisposed as of the moment…"

He scans to his left and right, watching the quiet nods and smirks, puts his knife down and reaches for a pure white cloth napkin "Not at all." He pushes away from the table and throws down the now greasy cloth to the side of his plate and stands up, excusing himself with a nod. "Just hope for your sake it's worth it, Mr. Adama".

I stand up from my seat and start over towards the concourse around the hall. Galen Tyrol worked his way from nothing by playing for keeps. This guy's not gonna' give up anything that he thinks he doesn't have to. Too many people have made that mistake.

_Better be worth it…_


	27. Worth It

Out of the hot, bright sun, the shadowy concourse around the main hall of the hotel's restaurant's practically freezing in the swirl of cool air snaking along the shiny tile floor. Notes from a violin softly playing at whisper level through the sound system in the spacious open hallway float through the web-work of light and dark rays refracting from the overarching windows. My footsteps clap just off synch to Tyrol's heavy footfalls. Down the hallway, a bell chimes for the polished mirrored elevator doors sliding open, and an older woman in tweed with a small dog under her arm pushes her way past the bellhop straining to follow her under a ton of luggage strapped over him, struggling to follow orders as she waltzes her way randomly around the hallway. I look down at the reflections in the tile, mine…and the olive-green suit right behind me.

"Okay, Mr. Adama…" says Tyrol with amiable defense "Mind telling me what you wanted to talk about? And if it has anything to do with any insinuations about my relationship with Tom, this conversation's already over, got it?"

"And why is that, Mr. Tyrol?"

"You can call me Chief."

"Can I?"

"More like you _should_…" he glares "If this is actually going anywhere… I'll talk business with anybody, but you're not here for business, you're here to ask questions, Mr. Adama, and I'll let you know right now, I only answer questions if it's a friend asking. So…"

He stares me down with intense eyes, boring through me already. "Okay…" I surrender "Why is that, Chief?"

"See? Feels more friendly already, doesn't it?"

"Just swimming…" I sarcastically growl "Why?"

"Let's just say, I'm sick of being asked to crawl around on my stomach and beg forgiveness for helping this city take that frakker out. And I sure as hell won't fall for anything Baltar's been trying to pull making me out as the bad guy. I _helped_ bring Tom Zarek to trial. Bring a lot of his goons to trial. I don't see anything to apologize about."

"Well you won't get any argument from me…" Not the time to spar over the past with him…not about this… Not my job. Right now, I care a hell of a lot more about Kacey than anybody Chief Tyrol might have done in on his way to the top. Maybe it's heartless, maybe it's wrong… But it's not my job. "Been getting hassled a lot for that recently?"

"Too much." he grates under his breath "Now what are you here to ask me about, and why am I giving you my time?"

"Sam Anders." I let the words hit him, watch for a shift, intake of breath…anything…

"What about him?" Apart from frakking up by blowing his knee out right before the championships, I don't see what's so demanding of a man in your profession to ask me about it…"

"Well I know you know him…"

"Of course I do, Lee. I've met everyone on the team. I can probably still get you tickets if you're asking as a friend…"

"I know that." I toss back "I want to know how _you_ know him… How closely?"

"We go back…" He's still keeping quiet about something. "I remember him from when I was in High School…the few years I got of it, at least…"

"Anything specific?"

"Only that Sam was the best Pyramid player anybody had ever seen… He wasn't even a freshman yet, but they'd still let him play on the practice teams. Sam was just some lanky kid back then, but…the guy had the gift. And he knew how to live off of it…"

"Made friends with him?"

"Sam was everybody's friend… That's just him."

"And you kept up with him over the years?"

"Who didn't? I don't really know what you're trying to learn about him, Mr. Adama…"

"You remember this?" I ask, grasping the clipping of Sam and Kara at the Art on the Rocks gala, keeping it flat so he can read his own name next to Sam's on the wrinkling paper…

"Yes I do, Mr. Adama." Chief states almost too flat, too openly "Nice party if I remember…at least my wife thought so… It's always hard these days to persuade her to go out of the house, leave our son with the help…"

"Talk with Sam that night?" I inquire, fast, perking my ears for the next words.

"As a matter of fact, I did Mr. Adama. It was a party, you talk with people…" He twists on his shoes with his hands shoved deep in his pockets. He doesn't want to say it…

There's gotta' be something there…

_Do it, Lee…_

"What did you two argue about?"

There it is… Everybody's got a tell. His brow angles sharply, tenses his stance…and smiles… "I don't know what you're talking about…"

"Your wife does." I fire in before he can form the words to cast his own innocence.

He steps forward, right up to me, stares me down…well…tries… Maybe I'm stupid, but I can't help but grin back. "Are you trying to threaten me, Mr. Adama?"

"What was it that had you guys going at it that night?"

"I told you, I don't remember…"

"You said you didn't know, Chief. That's two different things." I remind him "What was it, money? Sam skips out on a few "payments" and things start to happen, right?"

"You have no idea what you're getting yourself into asking questions like that." Tyrol roars, on the edge of losing it.

"Actually, I know what I'm getting _you_ into asking questions like that, Chief." Keep smiling, Lee… "You said it yourself; you have to be extra careful these days with all the vultures circling… And I know the rumor is, you're about to call for a strike, and from what little I overheard, you've got even more plans… That's why I'm not gonna' ask anything else about what you and Sam might have argued about that night…"

He sees it. Good business man like him would be stupid not to take an offer like that as soon as it's offered to him… He grins, calming his breathing "So you're a gambler, and a detective, I take it…"

"I'm only a gambler when I have to be…" I reply "And this doesn't have to be one of those times…"

The fountain in the distance echoes off of the cascading glass glaring in the sun. Footsteps and voices bounce and fade into the space above. Chief looks back over to his table, swings his neck up into the sky above and locks into my stare…smiles…"What do you want to know, Lee?"

"First off…" I ask, thrusting the newspaper clipping back into view "Who is she?"

He looks down at Kara, flips his gaze back and forth between me and the picture… "One of Sam's girlfriends."

"Name?"

"I think it was Kara…Kara… Kara Thrace. Yeah, that was it. Fun gal…"

_Yeah… I know that part…still want to know more…_

"Ever see her before that night?"

"A couple times. I will confess this to you, if you're looking for a play by play of Sam's bedroom antics; I'm not the guy to ask…" he says rolling his eyes sarcastically.

"How about her?"

Tyrol looks back to where the newspaper clipping was in my hand, now replaced by a small octagonal photo, crease in the corner. Blonde hair, blue eyes, cute smile…and he flinches. I don't know why, but he does. Gods damn it, Romo wasn't kidding…

_But why the frak would…? _

_What the hell does Tyrol have to do with Kacey?_

"Sorry, Mr. Adama. Never saw her before." Chief's triad-faced, keeps things together…too late. "Is she important?" he asks me wide eyed.

"Missing, actually… But then, since you don't know her…" There's no hiding what I'm saying now…no point. I couldn't give a frak what he thinks of me right now. The only thing in my mind's the two of them… Kacey… _And Kara…_ Couldn't give a frak about anything except them right now… "I guess I'm wasting your time, aren't I, Chief?"

"I guess you are, Mr. Adama." His voice broils the air with tempered rage, all too polite to be taken as friendly…

He's in on it.

I slip the photo back into my pocket; start to turn around, back towards the main lobby…

"I will leave you with one bit of parting advice, Mr. Adama…" says Tyrol passively.

"And what would that be?"

He steps out of place again, getting within inches of me "I've worked my whole life to get where I am, Mr. Adama. To help give other people an easier time to get up the ladder that I'd been fighting my way up for so long. I help people, Mr. Adama… But if they're just asking for me to give them an opening to knock me down… Well…" You can the air with a knife between us… "I might not be inclined to be so accommodating…especially to a man in your precarious position."

Now he thinks he has me… My mind fires back to the envelope…the pictures…whoever's been following me… I can't help but feel I'm closer to the answer I don't want than the thing I'm after.

It's about frakking time…

_Keep it together, Lee…_

"Funny that you're the one that's worried then, isn't it, Chief?"

I walk off, don't give him another word. My eye just catches a glimpse of him in the glass as I make my way back out towards the lobby.

He's watching me.

But I'm watching him now…

_I guess we'll see who blinks first._

* * *

Out in the lobby, far across from Chief Tyrol and his dining party, I take in a long breath, let it out…keep walking with my head mopping the tiles and counting my footsteps…try and let out some steam… It's never safe to over play your hand…and I feel like I just did. I know he's in on it…everything points to it… Everything…

That's what's got me worried.

No way in hell does it magically all fall together at my feet like that. Not this case… Not anything to do with Romo Lampkin, or Tom Zarek, or missing pyramid stars with kids nobody's ever heard of…

_Especially anything to do with Kara Thra…_

"Hi Lee. How ya' been?"

_Gods…_

That soft, sultry voice hits me like a hammer to the face. I freeze and arch my gaze to the right, and run my eyes up the silken curve of her calf, and smooth, black, frilly fabric of her dress, all the way up to her perfect lips, grinning from ear to ear at me like a wildcat ready to pounce. She's propped up against her arms folded behind her back, just barely keeping her from sliding down the wall. Her fingers tap playfully against the frigid surface, her blonde hairs' pulled back, and her eyes…

She gazes into me like she's twisting a dagger through my heart…

I can't help but stand there stupid and grin back.

"Why do I get the feeling somebody's following me?" I ask her.

"I don't know Lee…" Kara smiles "Maybe you're getting paranoid…"

"Am I?" _Business, Lee…_ "Seriously, why are you here?"

"I was in town, saw you on the street, thought I'd hang back and keep an eye on you…"

"You've been here the…?" _Frak me… _"You've been here the _whole time_?"

"Yep…"

"Watching me?"

"That so surprising? I'm just an innocent looking girl, Lee, who's gonna' notice me?"

"Now I know you're lying…" I chuckle just loud enough for her to here it.

"Awww…that hurt my feelings, Lee." she coos "Gotta' be careful when ya' fault a girl on her appearance…"

"You don't have _any_ problem in that department…" I reply, letting go of the wheel as my eyes trace down her neck, down her warm skin to the low cut of her dress…

_**Snap out of it, Lee…**_

"You're welcome…" she says, rolling her eyes, and perks her grin.

"What I meant, was…" I begin again, rasping my throat, struggling to get back whatever decorum I have left "Innocent…? That, I can't… No…can't see it."

"Ha, ha… Okay…I know how to keep quiet." she says "That better, Lee?"

"And here I had this wild delusion the whole time that I was the detective."

"Well you're obviously working hard. I suppose I should thank you for that, too…"

"You're welcome." I tell her, thinking back to what just happened "I just had a nice talk with your friend, Chief…"

"Chief Tyrol?"

"Yeah…I think he's planning to kill me now, so I'm pretty sure it went well…"

"Why'd you talk with him?" Kara inquires with what I hope is honest curiosity "I mean, what does he have to do with Kacey?"

"Well he knows Sam…" I glare at her "Anything else you'd like to tell me, Kara?"

"Why would I know anything about that?"

"You hired me to be a detective, right?"

"Well duh…"

"So it's my job to know what to ask."

"And why are you asking me about something I don't know?"

"Cut it out, Kara." I throw back, feeling the pulse quicken in my veins as I clinch my hands tight "I'm the detective here, remember?" I step close into her space, almost pinning her between me and the wall. Her bright green eyes sparkle an intense emerald that offsets the powdered pink shade of her hairband. The smooth black frills of her dress are crushed between the course fabric of my jacket. She breathes out deeply with a whimpering sigh, the moist heat of her voice brushes my face…

"Got it."

"Okay…now that we've got an understanding." I reply "What were you really doing here?"

"I told you already, Lee!" she spites with frustration "I saw you on the street, and thought I'd tag along. Frak, why don't you believe me?"

_Give her one moment to sweat…two…three…maybe four's torture…frak it, five…_

_That's enough, Lee._

"I do." I tell her with a winking stare, taking a step back "Just thought I'd see what it's like to make you sweat for once."

"Was it fun, Lee?" she asks spitefully.

"I'd say it was worth it." I snark back.

"Better be." she glares back, with a low growl, tilting her head, and furrowing her brow. I don't know if she wants to slug me in the jaw or maybe…

_No way, Lee. No way in hell… It's "Mrs.", remember? Even if it doesn't mean that anything…_

_I don't know which move to make myself…_

"How about lunch, Lee?" she asks, shattering the silence between us like glass.

"Here?" I exclaim, knowing she can't be serious about here, but…then again, it is Kara Thrace that's asking… "Not with these prices."

"You didn't look like the extravagant type, anyway…" she sighs girlishly "I've got a car parked two blocks down…and I think I saw a couple noodle stands along the sidewalk… If you're in the mood…"

I cast a quick glance back to the right over towards the Faru Sadn's dining hall, back at Tyrol and his threats and answers that add up too easy…and twist my gaze back to her, and all the questions I don't know to ask her yet… I smile, frak business, frak everything…

"I am now."


	28. Trust Me

"Ya' gonna' want any extra sauce with that, Sir?" the scrappy looking kid at the noodle stand asks me.

"No, I uh…" I reply, taking in the warm, steaming aroma of warm noodles and seafood "It's fine."

"What is it, can't take the heat?" Kara chides me with a wicked smirk.

"I just like to actually taste my food instead of get kicked in the face by it."

"Well if you're not willing to take the risk…" she says, gesturing to the kid to pile on another heaping of fiery red peppers into her bowl "…what's the point?"

"I guess you've got me there…" I trail off as I hand the noodle guy the money and his tip. She starts off down the sidewalk, weaving her way between several people before I catch up with her. She just loves a good chase…not that it isn't fun to follow her…_not to mention, the view…_

_Business, Lee…_

Her short hair bounces on her shoulders as she turns to gaze back at me while her fingers work the cheap, wood sticks around the white hot broth soaked noodles and peppers, popping a small portion into her mouth with a flick. "Well since this is a business lunch, Mr. Lee Adama…" she teases after slurping down the first flaming mouthful "what else have you found out?"

"I found out as much as I could about Sam's buddy Duck from one conversation." I tell her, picking at the morsels of wafting spices between my fingers.

"Not much then, huh?" Kara giggles knowingly with a twinge of frustration.

"Something like that…" I admit as I bite down on what feel like seafood… Not bad…frakking spicy, but…

"Hey, if you got him to say anything, you did good. He's always like that with new people…and people he doesn't trust. Which is _always_ new people…"

"I gathered that much." I reply, steering the conversation back my way with the next words "What does he know, Kara?"

"He knows Sam." she says with a tweaked sigh "And a lot better than I'm sure he let on to you. Sam's always been good at making friends, but Duck's one of the few that stuck around. One of the only ones that wasn't just in to screw him over for their share of his career, at least. Quiet, but a nice guy. Wife's nice too…"

"So you have met him?"

"Once or twice. But like I said, Sam's got so many "friends"…"

"Then why him?" I inquire, eyes set on her reaction, thinking back to the vague way she told me about him in the first place.

"That's a story I probably should have told you from the beginning." she mumbles as her heels click on the gray cement "I might have overheard the two of them talking about some kind of deal over money. Don't have a clue what it was about, but after that, Sam just seemed…"

"Nervous?" I finish for her.

"I guess I like the word "spooked" better," she says with fading grin "but yeah… Nervous."

_Now I've got something…_ "And when was this?"

"A couple days before he took Kacey with him and disappeared. Four days to be exact…" Kara tells me, carefully thinking over each detail before letting the words cross over to me through the clear, blue air "Late afternoon, we were at Sam's penthouse in the Celestra building, Duck dropped by…"

"Penthouse in the Celestra building? That's some piece of uptown real estate. Thought you said you live with him in Delphi?"

"I do. Sam lives all over. The team pays him enough, and he spends it. Makes them look generous, makes him look like somebody; you getting' this down?" she snarks with fierce eyes that spark turquoise flame.

"Just getting my facts straight…and wondering how many places you and him share a bed…"

"I seem to remember telling you the intimate details of our marriage…" she groans, sharpening her frown and watching for the traffic light to change "And the stuff about how we both like our freedom…"

_Okay…_ "It's like that, then…"

"It's exactly that. Are we done?" Kara glares venomously.

_Frak me…_

"For now." I smile back, gleaming thoughts that she can already play out in her mind "You were saying about Duck?" The light changes and she hurries across the dark pavement in her slinky heels. I keep up with her, but can't help but feel I'm still miles behind.

"I was." she chides me, stepping up onto the sidewalk "Anyway… Duck drops by and asks if he can talk with Sam for a minute. They go out on the terrace and start to talk like old buddies…then Duck tells him something that sets him off…"

"Tells him what?"

"I don't know. I was in the living room reading a magazine pretending to not be listening in on them. Like I said, it was about money. Sam's, somebody else's, I don't know. But I think Sam owed somebody and Duck was there to tell him about it."

"And Sam got ticked off at him…" I add on.

"No, not at Duck. That's what made it odd." Kara replies "Looked more like Duck was there to warn him."

"About owing Sam owing somebody…" I echo back; my mind darts through the few facts I have and start to throw the pieces together like rocks at an unlit streetlight in the dark… "And then there's your pal, Hotdog…"

"Yeah, then there's him." Kara repeats too blasé to come off as innocent.

"Just noting that you seem to have had an idea of what happened to Sam all along." I fire back "Want to tell me what you think that really was, Kara? Why you haven't gone to the police this whole time?"

She pauses in her stride, slurps down another bite of spicy noodles and looks me square in the eyes. Her cheeks quiver softly and her mouth pulls tight. She knows. She's known all along. Or at least…at least she thinks she knows.

"I think Sam's in a lot of trouble." she deadpans back at me.

"Come on, Kara…" my voice rasps almost silently beneath the blare of cars rolling past "You can do better than that."

"Okay…" Kara surrenders with a spiteful sigh "He owes somebody…big time. He's never been a gambler, but he is a partier, and that's bound to get somebody's hands in your pockets one day or another. I think he ended up in hock more than he could pay off, or at least keep quiet anymore; he didn't want to get me involved so he skipped out without telling me. Why he took Kacey with him, I still can't figure out, and believe me, I have been regretting it every day since I caught on to what was really going on. I think his plan, however frakked up it was, was to lay low and hide for a few days, which is the first reason why I didn't bother to tell anybody about it. I didn't want anybody to get hurt… Only, I think somebody caught up with him, and… Well…ever handle a kidnapping case, Mr. Adama?"

_**F-RAK…ME…**_

I'd like to fall over, but odds are I'd mess up the bumper chrome on some driver's bus, so I tense my muscles and feel my legs straighten against the concrete. It's the only straight answer I've heard yet from anyone, everything pointing in the right direction, but it still doesn't frakking add up. What about?

"What about your daughter, Kara? What about Kacey…"

"She's why I finally got nervous. I finally figured out he wasn't the one that was hiding." she replies, her skin draining glow, as her fingers grip tightly around her lunch "He was hiding her."

"And you think "they" caught up with him?" I ask, already feeling the ground start to slip away again.

"Or are trying to…" she trails off. I can't help but notice her eyes slipping down the street; flashing back to meet mine in the instant she knows I'm watching her every move. The term "a mystery inside a puzzle, wrapped up in an enigma" comes to mind…whoever thought up that phrase must have known someone like Kara Thrace.

"It's not enough." I reply flatly. Her gaze twitches, almost in shock.

"What do you mean it's not enough, Lee?"

"This. All of this…whatever this is. Sam, Kacey, shadows behind every corner…you…it's not enough to keep me in."

"Even the 10,000 I gave you in good faith?" she bites out at me.

"That's just it, Kara. "Good faith"… I'm not the kind of guy that has faith. Not anymore. I've already lost enough to have a damn good reason to give up on faith for the rest of my life. Until I met you."

Her emerald eyes spark as a blade of light refracts off a polished car window, setting her aglow like some Goddess clad in black. "I'm flattered…" she smiles.

"Don't be. Because if you're not telling me the real story…. If you're not willing to tell me everything… We've got nothing. Even with what you've already given me."

"So what else do you need, Lee?"

"One thing."

"Just one thing?" she snarks, nervously twirling the thin wood sticks between her fingers below my gaze.

"This isn't a game, Kara, remember?"

"I remember. What do you need?"

"Trust."

"You don't trust me?" she asks, stinging with venom and restrained anger.

"I do trust you, Kara. More than I know I should. And more than I think you imagine anybody would ever want to believe you. Beyond just this; beyond business…I trust _you_. But it's not enough."

"What would be?" her voice crafts softly from her full lips.

"I need you to trust me. Trust _me_, Kara. If we don't have that between us, we've got nothing."

_Did I just…? I just said "we"… Gods, I am so frakked up. _

She stands there, the superheated breeze rushing around her, wafting the silk of her dress like waves on the ocean. Her cheeks blush a pale pink, and her pulse flutters imperceptibly, betraying her inner thoughts and fears…

"It was him. Tyrol." she admits with her brow arched sharply "I'm not lying or hiding anything from you when I tell you that I don't know why, but he did it. He's the one that was after them… He's the guy that took Kacey."


	29. Viper

"Okay, that makes as much sense as anything else I've found out." I quip, trying to mask my dazed confusion with a warped grin.

"What do you mean?" Kara throws back.

"Just thinking about what you just said… Galen Tyrol, one of the most powerful men in the city, if not the most influential, who's always got his names in the headlines, has one of the most famous pyramid stars around, your "husband" Sam Anders and your daughter kidnapped…and all of this, right on the eve of a strike that could bring Baltar and everybody around him crashing down. Wow, Kara, that's… THAT…is a story."

"You think I'm lying to you?"

"No."

"I'm not making this up, Lee!"

"I know you're not, Kara." I tell her, letting my voice lower as I stare into her eyes, lost and alone, totally open and exposed. I know she isn't lying…or making it up. "But somebody is."

He wouldn't have even tried to talk to me unless it was important…unless it was bigger than my usual clientele, bigger than old debts, or even the wedge between me and him. Romo Lampkin never does anything without an angle. His or somebody else's…and never without a damn good reason. Makes sure he never has to step out of the shadows except for when somebody wants to hand him an award, and even then, only when he wants it. I know I've already started to make people nervous, not just honest people like Karl Agathon, but big people…people with reasons to keep quiet, turn me into corners with dead ends…like Tom Zarek and Galen Tyrol…and Gods know who else…

I've given up enough to not give a frak about getting knock down again…not enough to justify watching other people go down with me, good people like Maggie… Or watch people like Kara and Kacey get thrown under the train for somebody else's secrets. I know one other thing, too. Somebody besides Romo Lampkin's been watching me, trying to scare me away from helping them. Either way, they're too late. I'm starting to believe Racetrack…

"_You don't even know the definition of "in over your head", Lee."_

"I don't doubt for one moment that Sam and Tyrol are involved, or that Sam and your daughter are in trouble. And sure, high profile people do stupid things all the time, have affairs, get hooked on stims, even shoot people in broad daylight, but this… Risking everything by kidnapping Sam Anders and an innocent girl over money, even a frakload of money? Not him. Not Galen Tyrol."

"So what, we're back to square one?" Kara asks me, confused and frustrated.

"No. You're right, he's the guy."

"I thought you just said he wasn't?"

"And he's not… But he is how we find them. Find Sam…find Kacey. And whoever it is that wants the two of us to do their work for them." I grin at her, watch it reflect back to me in sparkling emerald "Thanks for trusting me, Kara."

"Don't mention it." she remarks in hushed admission

"Anything else I need to know, Kara?"

She stares me down, doesn't flinch, doesn't blink "No."

My fingers work their way around the sticks, and dive in and out for another bite of noodles "Good." I scarf it down, concentrating on the lines of her face and her piercing gaze. She trusts me enough to admit what she really thought…still doesn't explain why she didn't tell me up front, doesn't explain a lot of things. Not sure I give a frak right now.

"You need a ride somewhere?" Kara asks, perking her grin and gesturing down the street towards a line of parked cars, shiny in the glaring sun.

"Only back to the office. Is that an offer?"

"Come on, Lee…" She turns and leads me along the lineup of hot slopping steel, and steps off the sidewalk between a heavy block of black metal and a gleaming white rocketship on wheels straight out of a comicbook.

"You've gotta' be frakking kidding me."

Her fingers run along the slick ivory gloss of the hood, shark-like intake over the chrome grill arched forward making her look like lightning standing still. Kara rests her palms on the searing pearl white and flame red striped paint, her form illuminated by the flashing icy chrome and crystal windshield. "Like it?" she smiles deviously.

"You weren't kidding about Sam wearing his money…" I remark, stealing my gaze across the sleek, muscled body of the convertible.

"What do you mean Sam? This is mine." Kara snaps, grinning ear to ear "And before you ask…I make _him_ ask for the keys."

"Figures…"

Her eyebrows roll, nodding me over towards the passenger side, as she opens her door, slipping into the smooth, two tone cream leather upholstery. Kara slides effortlessly into position behind the wheel, placing her bowl of noodles into a cupholder between the seats. Kara reaches into her handbag she's stuffed under her seat and produces some keys which she slips into the ignition as she's slightly adjusting the airy fabric of her dress and looking up at me with a fierce glint in her eyes "You getting' in or not?"

"I guess I am." I relent with a grin, pulling open the door handle and getting into the shotgun seat. A deep, rocky roar erupts from the engine as soon as I shut the door. She smiles over at me with gleaming green eyes and slips her fingers around the chrome coated gearshift. "You were planning this from the beginning, weren't you?" I ask her.

"Planning what?" Kara innocently dodges.

"Taking me for a ride."

Her smile curls white and her right arm trusts forward, slipping the transmission into gear and setting the supercharged Voram VM3-D22 motor under the hood to life as her foot kicks the accelerator down to the floor. The wide, white-wall racing tires grip the asphalt, peeling out onto the street and slamming me deep into my seat before I can even get my grip on the seatbelt. It finally locks into place while she's twisting past a bus. The gleaming white Pegasus Motors Viper weaves through traffic like a razor blade through water. I gaze watching her grip the wheel tight between her fingers, loose blonde hair flowing in the breeze. She's danger and seduction, soft curves and sharp lines. The tires screech as we fly through a pair of cars to the off-rhythm oh my fingertips tapping along the mirrored steel dashboard accents. Her lips part slightly as she breathes in and out, pushing the speedometer that much further to the right. She's all business and nothing but pleasure in the same heartbeat. Definitely her kind of car…

_My kind of woman…_

The _case_, Lee…

"About Sam…" I start, shifting my nearly empty noodle bowl in my lap and reaching in with sticks to finish it off "…how much does he let you play with his money?"

"What makes you think I wrangled him into paying for this?"

"Well it's…" I stop to scarf down another bite "It's a pretty nice toy. Kind I'd expect somebody with that lifestyle to enjoy."

"Are you accusing me of shacking up with Sam for the toys?" she fires over to me with a glare that could melt durasteel.

"It is a question." I smile back "And one that somebody's bound to ask you someday…"

"First of all, _Mr. Adama_, I already explained to you why I decided to stay with him. And secondly, I do enjoy living with him, but I make my own way. Always have."

"Really?" I ask, reluctantly admitting that all this time I haven't bothered to even ask what she did "And that would be how?"

"Let's just say my artistic side's always gotten me by."

"You? An artist?"

"Started off as a hobby I got from my Dad. Hereditary hobby." she corrects, shifting gears "He was never around, but I picked it up anyway."

"And what was that? Music, painting?" Music seems like it fits her. With a voice like that, you steal a guy's heart in a moment…

"For him it was music. Most important thing in his life behind me. Couldn't really blame him for not being able to take my Mom, but…" Kara trails into a whisper with the last words, never having meant to say them to me, but…she did say it to me. "But that's another story. And one you didn't ask about."

"No I didn't." I softly reply.

_Soft spot with her…_

"I used to doodle stuff ever since I was little. Always liked making patterns, using colors…never anything really planned out, just whatever popped into my head. After so many award ribbons, I figured people actually liked it, so…"

"Can't say I'd recognize your work. I'm not exactly what you'd call an art expert."

"I also do poetry…but that's really just a personal hobby." she winks.

"You've gotta' quote me some sometime…"

"I'll remember that."

I slurp down the last of my lunch, feeling the burn slide down my throat and cough as my mouth stings. I catch her glancing over at me with a cute smirk, rolling her eyes without saying a word. She puts her eyes back on the road; I can't take mine off of her.

"What's the real reason in your asking?" she says, slowing for a moment under a stoplight.

"Because if this is really about Sam owing Tyrol, or at least his buddies big time…why go for your daughter first? Why not through you? Like I said, you've got a lot of nice toys yourself…"

"Maybe they wanted to make sure they meant business."

"Come on, think about it, Kara. No threatening calls, letters? Nobody comes to you at all, but makes the first move on Sam and your daughter? Why risk pulling something that stupid over simple extortion? None of what this is supposed to be is on the level. All adds up to just one answer."

The convertible roadster burst forward again, pulling to the left in the turn. She looks over to me again with questions written in her bristling skin. "And that would be…?"

"Whatever the hell this is about…what's it's _really_ about has nothing to do with Sam owing anybody."

"Then what about all the stuff with Duck, and Tyrol, and Sam acting weird when he was around them?"

"You want to know what I'm thinking about that?" I ask her.

"That's why I hired you."

"No frakking idea." I chuckle under my breath, forcing myself to not appreciate the insanity of the situation, and keep my mind on the little girl at the heart of it. An innocent girl that somebody's playing as a pawn in their own sick game. "But the only way we're going to get close to the truth is to keep following the road we're on now. Even if we know it's the wrong one."

"Why the hell would you want to do that?"

"The closer we get to whatever they want us to, the closer we get to them."

"Good answer…" Kara slides in "Only if this is all some big setup, why do think that'll work?"

"Cause it's all we've got." I reply "For now…"


	30. Quiet Afternoon

A couple minutes later, and we're parked right outside my office's building, the car idling to a stop under the shadow of brick and stone reaching into the sky all around. The street echoes with horn blasts and revving engines from beyond sight, but my part of the neighborhood's quiet. Just a normal, lazy afternoon. The type I wouldn't mind watching out the window, and toasting a quick drink to. Then again, I do need the work. Deadbeat spouses and white bread divorces can only get you so far before you go crazy about why they get to have all the luck. Several pages from somebody's newspaper dances across the street, snagging on the wheel of a midnight blue coupe parked on the other side. Different color, but the same body style as the coupe parked just outside of Zarek's estate… Maybe I'm just getting more paranoid than ever, but… _Let it, go, Lee, it's only an empty car._

"This was your stop, right?" Kara asks me, pulling my worry away for a moment.

"You were here only four days ago, you ought to know."

"So what am I supposed to be doing while you're off following all the fake leads you're after?"

"Stay quiet, and stay out of the way."

She glares at me with a pout, smirking her annoyance with me "Stay out of the way? Thought you would have figured out that's not how I like to play things."

"I'm not playing anything…"

"She's my daughter, Lee!"

"I know that!"

She keeps her eyes locked into mine, but they burn differently than before. So do mine, I guess. "Kara, I…" My breath drops with my head to the floor. _Pull yourself back, Lee…_

"I _will_ find her. Kara, I promise you, I am going to get her back safe."

Her hard gaze softens to a rosy glow, warm and smooth. "I believe you. I really do, Lee" she responds with a slightly offset whisper, tinged with tempered rage at life and everything. All I did was make the mistake of being the first thing she could see.

Seconds, or moments, or heartbeats…whatever people use to count time when it stops flows by with the hot wind carving through the alleys. It's like one of those scenes in the movies where you don't have to even have your eyes open to see what's happening. She looks at me, me at her…

If you think you know what comes next…

Well…you don't know _Kara Thrace_.

"So you getting' out of my car or not, Lee?" she snarks.

"Looking for the handle." I smile back "Never been in a car like this before."

"Can't say that anymore…" she chides me as I slip out of my seat and onto the pavement, clicking the slick, pearl and chrome door closed.

"I have figured out something about you, Kara…" I tell her, holding my empty bowl and used sticks between my right index and forefingers.

"And what is that?"

"You like trouble."

"Blame it on the company I keep." Kara smiles wide.

"Oh no…" I grin, sliding on my feet in an outstretching arc "More like the company _they_ keep."

"Ha, ha."

"I'll say this for Sam…" I say, looking down on her at her black dress "I haven't met him, but I know he's a tough guy."

"And why is that?"

"I've barely survived these past few days with you. And he's known you for years."

"Well Lee," she retorts, brow curled to blades "remember me telling you about how we respect each other's privacy?"

"That I know I won't forget." I chuckle.

"He's a good guy, Lee." Kara says seriously and low "Always has been."

"If he managed to get to know you…I know he is." I realize its "Mrs."; realize that it's not my life I'm stepping into. It's somebody else's. But ever since I met her, I've had that one thought, burning through my brain like a glowing ember in the dark… I feel my face drop, and mask my frown with a smirk, sigh deep…smile at her…

_It's business, Lee. That's all it is._

"Oh, I forgot to tell you, Lee…" Kara speaks up "I was thinking of staying in town for the next few days. Got to feeling too quiet out where I live…uneasy." She reaches over to the glove compartment and opens it, running her fingers through the usual junk. Makeup, spare gloves, a couple speeding tickets… She pulls out a crisp, cloud gray hexagonal card with black script, and hands it to me. "It's the Demetrius Hotel, uptown. And don't worry, I've only ever stayed there once with Sam, and that was a couple years ago. Pretty sure nobody'll be waiting around for me."

"_Quiet_…remember?" I remind her, slipping it into my jacket pocket.

"Snuck up on you easy enough today, didn't I?" Kara smirks, turning the keys and revving the engine into gear again. I watch her hair flow in the breeze as the Viper slips away under my left hand and off into the distance. It rounds a corner to the right and out of sight. Safe enough, I hope for her…

I didn't say a word to her about the photos I had discreetly slipped under my door. No point in letting her in on that yet. I keep wanting to tell myself it's really about me. Mostly, because I don't know what the frak I'm supposed to do if it's about her…

Glad to be back at the office, anyway. Maggie should already have a better idea of who Sam's buddy Duck is than I managed to work out.

And a better idea about something else I asked her to look into…

* * *

The elevator bell chimes, the heavy doors slide wide, and I step out onto the floor of broken black and white tiles. After all this time the chipped paint, scuffed sideboards, and broken glass fixture lamp actually feels as close to home as anywhere else I'd like to be…or could be.

Second floor, second office to the right, my name's on the door. Lee Adama, Private Investigator.

I clasp the knob in my hand and let the door swing open. Maggie's waiting at her desk in a coffee colored dress, nervously running her fingers along the surface. Something's off.

"Lee! Gods, I was starting to wonder when you'd get back…" she says in a rushed whisper, quietly leaping from her seat and over to me, keeping her back to the frosted glass door of my office.

"Hey, Racetrack. What's wrong?" I ask her, moving in close.

"We've got a visitor, says he needs to talk with you in person."

"And you let him in my office without me here?"

"He flashed a badge, big credentials. I couldn't say no."

"Don't worry about it." I tell Maggie, gently reaching out to her arms at her sides with my hands "Whatever it is, I'll take care of it. Did you manage to do a check on Duck?"

"Yep. Useful stuff, I'd say." she grins, in only the way Maggie can.

"And the other thing?"

"That's a long story, and that's gonna' have to wait until later."

"Gotcha', Racetrack."

I let go of her and start for my door, stopped by her low voice going through me "About this case you took, Lee? Kara Thrace?" she says, gesturing with her eyes towards my office. She cuts off whatever she had planned, just looks into me "I guess you already know what I'm going to say…"

_In over your head, Lee…_

"I know. Keep your ear to the door, Maggie."

"Will do, Boss"

My door arcs open, my leather soles creak on the cool floor. Everything's in place, right where it should be. He's standing to the right; grinning with a crooked smile as he walks along the lines of crookedly hanging old pictures I have hanging on the walls. In the dim light, he almost blends into the shadows from the windows, moving like he's either unaware I'm here, or doesn't care. I close the door behind me, listen to it click shut with an audible jolt and look in his direction.

Short hair, almost a crew cut. Light blonde hair, with a rough face. Small nicks and scars trace along his forehead and jawline. And steel blue eyes…

"I take it, you're Lee Adama. Caprica City PD, Internal Affairs." he states in a weirdly smooth, rasping voice.

"And you're in my office. Care to tell me why?" I ask sternly.

"I have a lot of questions for you…" he continues unabated.

"And if you want any answers, you'll show me your badge right, frakking now."

"Of course…" he smiles crookedly, reaching into his gray suit and handing me his credentials. I look them up and down before handing them back to him. No way I'm saying a word to this guy if it's fake. Checks out, though…

"Alright…" I stare intently as he takes it back into his coat; watch the sharp angles of his face serenely stare back at me all too comfortably "What does the IA want with me, Mr. Conoy?"

"First name's okay with me, Mr. Adama." he grins unnervingly "You can call me Leoben."


	31. Suit Job

"Well have a seat. And I'd suggest the very next thing you tell me is what you're here about." I tell him as he grins way too politely for a suit-job.

_Suit-Job…_

One of several unfamiliar terms I picked up from my brother when he was on the force. Internal affairs guys were the janitors. That was the idea at least. Swoop down quietly before the vomit stains from some regular Joe's frak-up stained its way through to the front page. Clean and quick…and preferably off the record. Nobody liked suit-jobs, most of all Zak. Usually they were the guys that never carried pictures of their kids or family in their wallet, never laughed or even understood the type of dirty jokes that normal guys on the beat tossed back and forth to pass the time on late night stakeouts. And they never made friends.

Not like it mattered to them.

The kind of promotions they were bucking for were the types where you're desk had the whole basement to itself. It sure as hell wasn't the pay grade that made em' take the job. The department was so frakkin' cheap in their direction cause they knew it pissed em' off…which was the whole point. Kept em' pissed off enough to stay paranoid, stay razor sharp…turn in their own grandmothers if somebody at the top gave em' an excuse. That's where they got the name suit-jobs. No uniform. Course, even a first year nugget working the street could pick em' out of a full Pyramid stadium crowd. Some of the tough guys would save up their cubits, go full on custom tailored, liked to walk in and look like somebody just to watch all the uniform guys squirm. They were usually the good ones, Zak told me, the ones that got paid off to look the other way, give the all-clear to the higher-ups without any trouble. But the bad ones, the ones nobody could deal with, the ones that even made the higher-ups nervous, the ones that were the type of janitors that didn't mind using a gun instead of a mop…

He pulls up an empty chair from beside the wall and places it between the desk and my old couch, sits there grinning at me, decked out in fraying tweed, bright green and red tie around his neck, slowly tapping worn out shoes scuffed up worse than a street curb…

_As if the last few days hadn't been frakked up enough already…_

I flop down in my chair, sinking my spine in to rest and running my right palm along the cool surface of the desk. He tracks my fingers, running in converse lines over spare sheets of blank white paper.

"Lee Adama…" he begins finally "Private detective Lee Adama. Doesn't quite sound right."

"Well I didn't pick the name. You can blame my Mom for that one."

"Heh…no, I meant… Private detective… You don't look the part. Seemed to fit in better as a lawyer. A damn good one as I recall…"

"Well I'm not a lawyer now, Mr. Conoy."

"Leoben…"

"I know your name." I snap back. _Gods, does this guy ever look normal?_ "And I may not "look the part" of a private detective to you, but I am one, and a damn good one, I'd like to think. Which means I don't work for the city, I work for me. Which also means you're standing in my office, and using up my time, so why don't you just cut the mind-frakking crap and give me a reason to not throw you out of here right now? I can give you a moment to think of one if you'd like."

He stares through me, straight through the wall like I'm not even here; no different than when he first looked at me. Same way he spooked Racetrack, I'll bet…

"I know this is your office, Mr. Adama…and your time. But you've been using somebody else's time. That's all I'm interested in."

"And whose time would that be?"

"Who do you think I work for, Mr. Adama?" he grins back crookedly.

"I didn't realize I was on the department's payroll."

"You were on their clock as soon as you stepped into their backyard." Leoben replies.

Can't say I've exactly been working my usual clientele these past few days, but I'm pretty sure none of em' were cops. Well…apart from Karl Agathon, and he's a friend. Alright…_was_ a friend. He was more wired than usual about seeing me, though…add that in with the photos in the unmarked envelope, my Dad, and Z…

_Zarek…_

I wonder if this guy was in the car parked outside his place…or even the guy that sent me the photos. At this point, I could believe anything.

_Play it safe, Lee…_

I lean back in my chair and stare back into him, fishing for the words that'll get me what I need before he finds his. "You guys doing an investigation I should know about? After all, if I'm supposed to…stay out of your backyard…goes to figure I should at least know where the fence is. Or am I not allowed to know that either?"

"I didn't visit you to make a threat." he grins "Nothing so melodramatic. I know you've got friends on the department, so just think of it as a…suggestion…for everybody's good. Especially your own."

Karl must've known something was up when I saw him at the stadium the other day. Maybe they didn't let him in on it, but a guy in his position would know when he's supposed to steer clear of somebody else's trouble. "Why don't you tell me why I've got the CCPD spooked, and I'll tell you where you can stick your suggestion."

"What did she tell you?"

"Who, my secretary?"

"Not her, Mr. Adama." His grin slides wide like a knife blade, and his cold eyes glint in the dim light. "I'm asking about the woman that came to see you four days ago in this very office. _**Kara Thrace**_."

_Frak me…_

"What's that name supposed to mean to me?" I play stupid, just now fully feeling the weight of the muggy air around me as I straighten up in front of him. _It's him…_ The guy that got to Hotdog before me…

"_Never got a name. Guy took good care not to give one out. Something was just off about him. Told me he was lookin' for Kara Thrace, didn't give me a reason, didn't want to. Weird guy… Won't forget him anytime soon."_

The same guy that put a look of fear on Kara I didn't imagine she could make back at the skybar at the C-Buck's tower…

"_I'm thinking along the lines of a man. Blonde, short hair, blue eyes, rough face, maybe a couple scars, weird voice…bad dresser. Reason I'm asking is because I heard he'd been asking around about you…"_

_Kara's face changes to something I haven't seen before, didn't expect to see in her. Not from somebody as strong as she is. Her eyes widen, every muscle goes stiff, her breathing shallows, skin goes pale, goosebumps shoot down her arm. Kara sucks in a deep breath from her cigarette dangling in between her fingers, abruptly dropping it down into an ashtray just across from her, crushing it in the heavy crystal. She's fighting her own body not to show it…and she's loosing. She's afraid. She's really afraid._

"_I don't know him." she quietly snaps back, reaching for another shot of liquor. She's lying… "But…if you run into him…I'd like to hear about it, Mr. Adama."_

Anybody that can do that to Kara Thrace's somebody I know to keep my eyes on.

"Now you have two choices here, Mr. Adama. I've asked you a question, there are two answers. One is you telling me what I want to know, and the other is you not telling me, and for both of our sakes, I'm hoping that you're seriously considering the first choice, because the other is…the other doesn't go anywhere you'd want to.

"Not so sure about that… I live in one frakked up neighborhood."

"That's not a no." he prods like a kid toying with a bug before he tears a leg off and drops it back onto the broiling concrete to watch it try and escape.

"It's not anything." I lay down with a jolt in the thick shadow. "What's this Kara Thrace mean to you?"

"That's department business." Leoben evades, twitching his skull off center but still keeping his eyeballs front and steady.

"No, that's my business if you're asking me, Mr. Conoy, and you are, so… Come on…it's just between you and me. Why do you want to know about a woman named Kara Thrace?"

"I'll ask you again, what…did she tell you?" He's getting impatient, rasping his words more firmly, but clearer. I still don't know what Kara's so afraid of, but I get the vibe why he's part of it. Anybody would.

"What if I've got nothing?"

"Oh, I'm sure you do, Mr. Adama. I'm sure there's a lot you could tell me." I can only play this for so long, knowing full well he might've seen her car outside or at least heard it before she left just now. "Why don't we start with whatever story she came in with to get you to work for her? I'm guessing it was a good one if you're being this ardent about keeping it to yourself."

"Guess it would be."

"You're playing a very dangerous game here, Mr. Adama. One you don't have to."

He keeps calling me Mr. Adama like it should mean something to me, drag me over to my Dad's side…and my brother's. But I'm not my Dad…even if Zak tried to be.

"I can tell you this much…" he says, friendly like "Anything you'd have to say in the way of what she might have told you, asked you for, whereabouts, information…"

I was wondering when he'd get around to that… _"Whereabouts"…_ Anytime somebody even mentions that word, it's the giveaway they're not really after you, they're after somebody else and are just waiting for you to slip up and give it away before you can show them the door. Of course if you don't give it to them…

You can end up what's commonly known as "frakked".

"Anything would be appreciated." Leoben finishes off, polishing his words through the shifting beams of milky sunlight cutting between him and me. "Otherwise you might have bigger things to worry about."

"And that would be?"

"You really were outstanding as a lawyer. The way you could craft words with your soul, convince people of the truth they had blinded themselves to, it was… Quite extraordinary."

_Gods… Frakker thinks he's a poet…_

"Whatever she told you, whatever truth there might be in it…" he leads, tilting his eyes through the bladed beams of air, his words a harsh whisper sliding to a smooth halt "The lies behind it are bigger than you can imagine, Mr. Adama. I just want to give you a way out before you discover them for yourself."

"You still haven't told me why you're so interested in finding her." I throw in his face; frak the mind game crap.

"Did she tell you she was in trouble? Maybe some tragic tale about her and one of her associates…maybe even mentioned Sam Anders?"

_Here we go…_

He gets up from his seat, planting his scuffed soles on the hard floor and turning his back to me to scope over more off centered photos on the wall.

"Since I've already shown you my hand, I guess telling you a little more won't mean any harm." His right hand leaps up to a photo of me in front of the Hall of Justice, all those years back, Zak and his partner Karl in the background, the three of us in the same shade of dark blue bled to thick black in the dual tone photo. He traces the frame with an outstretched finger, running down along the side; I catch him grinning in the glass. "Kara Thrace is just one person involved in this…there are others, but I'll say as much that she's involved with Samuel Anders, the pyramid star…you follow the game, Mr. Adama?" he abruptly cuts.

"Who doesn't?"

"Right… Anyway, Sam's been missing for several weeks…nobody's heard from him, and…from the looks of things, he's not exactly the guy that's got his face all over kid's pyramid cards, if you get my drift."

"Tell me something new about anybody." I counter.

"Well this guy, Sam Anders…he's nothing like people make him out as. Neither are a lot of his friends, you probably know a lot of them from experience, Mr. Adama. Or at least, the people he…thought…were his friends. She would have mentioned him, some story…he ran out on her? Ticked her off? Jealous ex-girlfriend, chided business partner, whatever it was… Kara Thrace is a very dangerous person, one of many the department's been keeping an eye on lately… There's no…official case yet…of course you know all about the legality of evidence, investigations…or at least _remember it_. But I assume you know what happens when somebody steps in front of an investigation."

He meant that one for me for sure…

Leoben shifts around, eyes lazily drifting over at my desk but not quite up to me. "You've been a detective for what, almost five years now? Working quiet, small time stuff… I don't suppose if anybody took the time they'd find anything to hold against you, would they? Anything…the authorities should have been notified about?" He pauses…head rolling oddly to one shoulder, gleaming a smile like he's the only one laughing at a lame joke. "No...who am I talking to? You're Lee Adama, right? One of the good guys…"

Nobody smiles after telling a guy that if they really mean it, really think it. He's one of them alright…suit-job, key to every file drawer in the city. Could just as easily burn my operating license as he could disappear a couple hundred interrogation records. They all can. But frak, after what I pulled back then, anybody in this city could.

_In over your head, Lee…_

"Yeah…couldn't ever see myself as trying to be anything less." I snark back, making sure to seem like I'm just annoyed instead of trying to piece together just how Leoben Conoy fits into the puzzle got dumped in front of me when Kara first walked in to see me. All I know now is he talks like he thinks he knows me, and I'm getting sick of it.

"The thin blue line's a lot thinner these days because of what you did discrediting Roslin's administration back then. All the big names in the department remember you for that, Mr. Adama, not making sure a wanted criminal got an honest day in court. You made it your purpose in life to cast that same divine rule on everyone in this city, but the truth you won't let yourself see is this world doesn't work on truth." His entire tone's warped into viciousness, rasping smoothly like he's reading a script. "I'm sure you've come to see most people don't live the truth, Mr. Adama…even you. Neither does the young woman you're so precariously trying to convince me you never even met, but also have made it your mission to try and save. But you can't save her from the truth, Mr. Adama, because you know why?"

He glares down at me and I feel my fists rake the edge of my desk. I'm on my feet, standing off with him with my desk the only thing keeping me from throttling him where he stands. All he does is take a step in and smiles.

"You won't even try and save yourself."

Leoben reaches in his coat pocket and tosses a hexagonal blue business card towards me. It spirals to a halt on the desktop, upside down from my view with a number on it.

"If you do happen to…see her…" he breathes "Why don't you give the department a call. I can promise you…we will be waiting for your call."

"I'm sure you will." I glare back, taking it in my hand and crumpling it in my fist.

"Well that's…all I had to say to you, Mr. Adama." Leoben says, making his way for the door, reaching out for the doorknob, stopping mid stride to look over his shoulder.

"Did she tell you about the girl, Mr. Adama?"

_What?_

Play it safe, Lee…just sit quiet and keep looking at him…

"What girl?"

I feel the rumble of the afternoon traffic in my seat, resting back in the dim light and cutting shadows, watching him pretend he's not grinning down at me like a gargoyle, his steely eyes piercing through the hot air as he opens the door.

"Heh…keep that number…_**Mr. Adama.**_"


	32. Save My Life Someday

The door shuts with a slick jolt and I listen to his footsteps go right by Racetrack and out the front door without looking back. I let out the breath I'd been choking down and slump in my chair, raking my palms through my hair and clamping my eyes shut. My head falls back and stares up at the waterstained off-white ceiling, making patterns and shapes out of the swirling discolored paint. I didn't know who was going to walk through my door when I first met her, only that she was in trouble with a killer figure traced against the frosted glass. Anybody with a brain would drop out now; let it go before somebody besides me gets hurt…

Almost makes me wish I still had a brain…almost.

"_Did she tell you about the girl, Mr. Adama?"_

I reach in my pocket with on hand; reach under my desk with the other. I take it out; feel the eight sides, tiny and creased, let it fall to the desktop like a feather. She smiles up at me, innocent and happy, no worries to think of. She didn't ask for any of this…why the frak did I?

My right hand pulls out the bottle of cheap ambrosia and the glass beside it, and fishes through the junk to find another glass. I knock the bottle open and pour the first glass full, still letting my thoughts drift with the light on the ceiling, voices echoing in the steel canyons around me.

"_Whatever she told you, whatever truth there might be in it…the lies behind it are bigger than you can imagine, Mr. Adama."_

"_Remember this, Mr. Adama… Don't loose your heart. They can't take that from you. That… you have to give away."_

I take a drink, slip back the sparkling gold liquid to my parched lips and gulp it down, burn Leoben's threat and Romo's warning from my mind, and fall back to those moments before I walked back in here. When I was with Kara…

"_I will find her. Kara, I promise you, I am going to get her back safe."_

_Her hard gaze softens to a rosy glow, warm and smooth. "I believe you. I really do, Lee"_

"I believe you."

"Believe who, Boss?"

My head snaps forward, jarring my loose words from my brain. I lock eyes with Maggie who just cautiously peeked through the door. "Nothing…"

"Didn't sound like nothing." she grins, catching me with the glass in my hand "Kept my ear to the door, remember?"

"Thanks. Want a drink?"

"In the middle of the afternoon?" she frowns like only she can "You actually think you earned it?"

"Yeah I do. And so have you." I tell her, tossing the second empty glass to her. She catches it and glares for a moment; ticked off at the drink she knows I just talked her into sharing.

"Alright, Lee…" she sighs, moving over to me to fill her glass half way before she pulls it away and sits in the empty chair, scooting it in close to me "Who's story you wanna' share first?"

"Guess I should let you in on my conversation with the suit-job…"

"Yeah…" Maggie breathes silently, reticently looking over her glass "Mr. Creepy."

_Good name…_

"Apparently the city's interested in our new client."

"You mean the police department?"

"I'm not so sure… I didn't get the vibe he was really here on department business. Just one guy, bunch of veiled threats, no way. But somebody big is watching this close."

"Watching us." Maggie finishes.

"Exactly." I nod, peering through the amber tinted liquor in my hand. "He knew about Kacey. He was using her as bait to find Kara." I tell her flatly, and watch the blood sink away from her face.

"What do you mean using her as bait, Lee?"

"He was after Kara Thrace. Wanted to know about what she told me, if I knew anything about Sam… Last thing he asked me was if Kara told me about Kacey."

"I'm hoping you didn't let anything slip."

"I didn't tell him anything. But I don't think I had to. He already knew she'd been here. And I'd bet anything he knows who kidnapped Sam and Kacey."

"Kidnapped?" Maggie exclaims, tilting her gaze and turning that much more serious "I thought we were working around Sam taking her with him to protect her."

"Not anymore. Not after what Kara confessed to me over lunch."

"You really do enjoy throwing in stuff to surprise me, don't you, Lee?"

"Every time I can." I smile, taking a short sip from my drink, noticing Maggie still hasn't touched hers "You want the long story or the short story?"

"Whichever one ends with you having lunch with Mrs. Thrace…I mean _Kara_." Racetrack grins wickedly. _Gods, she really does enjoy this…_

"Romo." I start off, getting her mind back where I need it and out of my head "I went to see Romo, told him about the photos."

"What'd ya' get, Boss?" Racetrack asks in rapt attention.

"Went through the usual frakked-up verbal waltz with him, and ended up with him letting me in on one of Sam Ander's big time friends."

"I'm on pins and needles. How much for a guess?"

"Don't worry; I wasn't planning on keeping you in suspense." I admit "Galen Tyrol."

"Get out…"

"Had an interesting…"talk" with the Chief over at the Faru Sadin."

"The same Chief Tyrol that took over every "legitimate" business venture that Tom Zarek used to run."

"That'd be him."

"And Tom Zarek just happened to send his goon squad to break into your office a couple days ago…"

"Then told me he was being railroaded into some huge conspiracy…"

"Along with you…"

"And then I just happen to get a couple beauty shots of that conversation shoved under my front door…"

"Exactly." Racetrack grins, arching her eyebrows with furious intensity. We both look at each other across my desk, the both of us pause and wait.

"Oh…" Maggie exclaims with a start "was I supposed to keep going, or is that sentence over?"

"I think we both got it." I reply with a soft chuckle. _Gods, she always can make me laugh. _

"Good…" she smiles "So Sam got involved with Tyrol."

"More than involved…I've got a nice story about a few private shouting matches between them. Tyrol's more than an acquaintance; the two of them were involved in something that went bad. Sam got the worst of it. Tyrol's in on it."

"Sounds like your friend Romo Lampkin came through for you again."

_Don't call him my friend, Racetrack…_ "Just enough to keep me guessing, and keep himself comfortable in the shadows where he likes it."

"Well he is the dramatic type…"

"Yeah…among other things."

"Okay," Maggie says, letting out a quick sigh "you talked with Lampkin, talked with Tyrol…you already told me about the suit-job…" Her eyes spark gold against her dress; faded into the dim glow around her "You know who that leaves…"

"Yes I do, Racetrack." I glare.

"Nice lunch, huh?" she keeps prodding "Quiet…private…"

"Hey, I don't pester you about who you go out with!"

"Only all the time!" she laughs out loud "And at least I've never gone out with a _client_."

"Neither have I."

"Good." Maggie smiles, turning deadly serious in the blink of an eye "Try and remember that, Lee. Might save your life someday."

_Easy for you to say, Maggie…_

"About the case…" I say, wrestling to keep the wheels on the road "I got her to admit something important. She's absolutely convinced Sam and her daughter was kidnapped, always was. She thinks Tyrol was in on it, so do I. I think we can both put two and two together to figure out Mr. Creepy is, too. Problem is, that sends us nowhere but where we already are, waiting for somebody to slip up."

"Not exactly…" Racetrack adds, finally taking a slow sip before leaning her chin on her down turned palms and curling her happy grin "You haven't asked me what I found out today, Boss."

"It's good isn't it?"

"So very…"

Her deep eyes sparkle like only hers do, dark and elegant, smirking at me in deep brown in gold shadow.

_My lucky charm. My Maggie. My Racetrack._


	33. Magic

"Good…" I smile, laying my glass on the table and settling in "What did you get on Duck?"

"A couple things…" Racetrack begins "for one, Duck's not as clean as you thought at first."

_Nobody is_... "Alright, so what's he been up to?"

"Nothing for a while at least. Not since he used to work for _Tom Zarek_."

Okay, that _is _important. "Duck used to work for Zarek?" I ask her, badly masking surprise with a turning grin.

"At least back when Zarek ran the workers' union. Worked as a driver for him, actually."

"And how did you find that out?" I ask her as she coyly smiles back.

"Nothing that hard, I just dropped his name when I checked around with his record as a city employee. Didn't take more than two call transfers to find out." she says lightly, keeping her magic way of how the frak she got anything secret as always. Some things you don't ask to be explained, like the way she can dance through walls and bring back whispers. "Zarek liked to hire from the newbie pool on the unemployment line for workers for himself and his estate." she continues "Duck worked nights for about six months."

"Long enough to overhear a few things."

"I guess the police thought the same thing." Maggie adds, arching her brow with a sparked glint of untold info.

"Wait a minute, Duck has a record?"

"Found that out the third time I got transferred. Only one arrest, no conviction. They just hauled him in for questioning one night over something. Must've let him go quick, he's squeaky clean from then on out. Zarek let him go right off, and Duck went back on unemployment."

"A gambler with bad luck, nothing new there…"

"Funny thing was, only a couple months ago, a call got placed asking about Duck with an offer for a job as a garbage man."

"Who placed the call?"

"That part I did get easy…" Maggie smiles tellingly "Galen Tyrol."

"Okay…" I breathe out, raking my fingers back over my scalp and leaning onto my desk "Duck knew Zarek back when he was a fine, upstanding pillar of the community, close enough to more than likely have gotten dragged into his work…"

"It didn't say that in the report…" she replies with innocent glee.

"It didn't say what they wanted with him either, did it?"

"Exactly." Racetrack nods.

"Duck…so far…is one of the best leads we've got on what happened to Sam. We know they've been friends for a long time, and we also know that Sam got involved in something big with Chief Tyrol, who?"

"Took over for Tom Zarek." Maggie finishes instantly.

Romo knew all along…I won't even try to ask how the hell he knew it lead back to him, but it does. Best to not want to know right now, knowing Romo Lampkin. It's not a picture yet, but some of the pieces were in place all along. Racetrack just found the piece that starts to spiral the rest into place… _Like she always does…_

"I'm gonna' throw out one crazy ass bit of speculation here and guess Duck knows one hell of a lot more than a lot of people want us to realize he does."

"It's good, isn't it?"

"So very…"

What the frak did Sam Anders get himself into? He's connecting to every big name in the city, and not in the way anybody would think at first…even me.

But not Kara…

"You thinking what I'm thinking, Lee?" Racetrack asks me, glaring through the soft shadows sweeping lazily over her.

"Kara thinks Duck was involved with Sam and Kacey's kidnapping."

"Guess we don't have to wait for a good lead now, right, Boss?"

"Wait? No…not now. But…" I trail off, looking over the evidence in my head, trying to see at least half as many moves ahead as Romo does. If this is going to work at all, I've gotta' go to the right person next, ask the right question. I'm being watched, and mine's not the only head on the block for this one. I can see her smiling up at me from the creased photo in my pocket, Kacey smiling innocently out at a guilty world she can't imagine exists. It's not fair to her. I owe her…and Kara.

Kara lost her daughter to something big Sam got into. She knows enough to realize Chief Tyrol called it in, and knows Sam's friends enough to guess Duck was involved, and most importantly won't admit to me what exactly scared her into coming to me about it. 10,000 cubits is one hell of a quiet way to say it, but that's what it was.

Still haven't cashed it…still can't shake there's something wrong about it…

_Right person, right question…_

_Don't frak this up, Lee…_

_Right person, right question…_

My eyes bounce around randomly, sweeping across Racetrack as she does the same thing. _The…same…thing…_

Nothing says it has to be _one _question…_one_ person…

"I've got an..."

"…idea."

_Frak me… That's Racetrack for ya'…_

"Okay, what do…"

"…you got?"

"You…"

"…first."

_Godsdamn it…_

I lean back into my seat, hear it creak as I look Racetrack in the eyes "This isn't gonna' work."

"Why not?"

"Because this is gonna' get really awkward for one of us in about a week."

"Can I bet who first?" Maggie quips wickedly, collapsing into a giggle.

"Later." _Come on, Lee, this isn't supposed to be fun… Not sure why it is…_ "Remember the check? 10,000 cubits?"

"The one you still haven't cashed? From Kara…" she finishes in a hush.

"Yeah… After all this, I'm getting a vibe that something's off about that, too."

"Seemed like you've had that vibe since she gave it to you, Lee."

"True, but I think it's time we find out _why_."

"Thought you said she told you it was all hers, that you believed her?"

"She's got money, I don't doubt that…but… Call it a feeling, Maggie."

She looks at me and glints at the words… "Where's it lead, Lee?"

"That's what I'd like you to find out." I pull out of my wallet, and reach for the check, where it's been quietly folded over in the dark all this morning, between a few bills and an overdue, still unsigned alimony check. My fingers unfold it flat in my hand and slip it across the desk to Racetrack. "You can make it to the bank on the check in under an hour, right?"

"No problem. But what do I ask?"

"Whatever you do, don't cash it… You'll know what to do. Just do your magic, Racetrack."

"My "magic"?" she grins, curling the words in the air like smoke.

"Forget it…"

"I think I might just bring up that raise you've been promising me again…"

All I can do is break my careful professional stance and silently smile; she can always do that, especially when I wish she wouldn't. "Get some information, then we'll talk about it. And one other thing…your assignment for tomorrow."

"What's that, Boss?"

"You said your date went well, right?"

"Is that a _question_, Boss?" she blushes with a blaring snap and tensed jaw.

"That's not what I meant."

"I'll ask about _your date_ if it was, Lee…"

What I'd give to not be so frakking transparent in front of her…

"The guy's a cop, right?" Serious again, real business this time.

"Yeah. Honest, nice."

"The cops don't like to work with me in the first place," _Especially Karl Agathon…_ "and Tigh still has a grudge over my stunt in court; he'd have me up on false charges just for stepping one foot inside the precinct. And we don't even have to mention Mr. Creepy again…"

"No chance…"

"The police, for right now, are not on our side, let's consider that fact. But we don't need the whole force. All we need is one guy on the inside to help, somebody that can give us a chance to use their resources from the inside, get a look at Duck's record to find out what happened back then, maybe even find out what the frak all of this with Sam and Chief and Zarek and whoever else is mixed up in this is about, find Kacey. Just one guy, Racetrack…"

"Oh come on…" she shifts fast in her seat, knowing what I'm asking of her.

"Honest…nice… Noel must be some guy…" I kid her, glad I've got a desk to hide behind in case of flying glass…

"That's a big risk to him, Lee. You talked about Karl like he was afraid to even talk to you." She pauses in a chill, strangling a tremble that's running beneath her skin. "Lee, what if they are investigating Kara? Noel and I just met a few weeks ago, but I like him, Lee. He's been working overtime for the past year trying to save up for his own house; you know that real pretty neighborhood on the north side with all the trees. If this thing with the department is real and somebody finds out that Noel's helping us on her case…"

One of has a real life…or at least a chance at one. I can hear it when she talks about him, questioning why she's been waiting so long to cash in her free chance. She thinks he might be it, and I don't know what's stopping her…or why the frak I ever let her throw it away on me all this while.

"Nobody's going to ask him…" I try and cut in, seeing her worry and doubt in the lines of her face.

"I don't want to hurt him, Lee. I've got no problem being in this with you, it's my job, and I'm your friend. But the more people get in on this, the more people are gonna' get hurt."

"That's why we've gotta' figure this out as soon as possible. End this. Or else somebody's definitely gonna' get hurt…and it's gonna' be Kara's daughter first if we don't get this right."

She casts a long, cautious glance to me from what feels like an abysmal chasm, the one I'm freefalling down as she grasps my hand, watching herself start to slip off the edge. "Okay…" she sighs dead straight and brave "I'll ask him."

"Thanks, Maggie." I reply softly, hoping to the Gods I don't believe in or whatever the frak I'm supposed to hope in after I just asked somebody to risk screwing up their life for me that it's worth it. _Business, Lee…business…_

"So what was your idea, Racetrack?"

"Duck."

_What?_ "I already talked to Duck."

"You talked to him, he didn't talk to you. Ask him about Zarek."

"He wouldn't say word one about Sam, why the frak would he tell me about Zarek?"

"Because I think he never told anyone else about what happened. You told me he had a tell, that you could see he knew about Sam…well he knows a lot more than that, and the guy you described to me was a cool customer if there ever was one, but he was scared, and I don't think it was of you."

She's right…after what we've just found out, it only means one thing.

"He wants out." I reply in sparked whisper.

"Give him an out, Lee. Give him a chance to make good. Push him. I got his current address for you to swing by." Racetrack finishes off smiling wide and sharp in the faded gold light "_Do your magic, Boss._"


	34. Just Maggie

I never have thought of myself as a detective…of course, my boss doesn't think of himself as one either

I never have thought of myself as a detective…of course, my boss doesn't think of himself as one either. Not really…no matter what he tells himself. He's not in it for the job, the work, definitely not the pay. He's in it for the debt. He owes people. That's what he'd like to think, what he tells himself every morning, everyday, every night…what I've tried to make him see he's been wrong about all along. Of course, it never works, never has, never will dissuade him. After all…

I'm just his secretary.

Just Racetrack.

Mid afternoon traffic's just starting to roar through the skylines above me as I step out of the yellow cab and out onto the grime grey sidewalk in front of the First Caprica Colonial Bank on Dionysus St. The air swirls with sounds and colors and shapes stopping and starting with unpredictable jolts of violent motion. Everyone and everything's in a hurry to get somewhere, me included. Why isn't that hard to explain, for me its how. I've done more weird things in this job than I even want to remember, and this job's one of the most frakked up of all. Always wanted to be an actress, not the silver screen type where you light up the night with flashbulbs wherever you go, but the type that gets to live with her characters in front of a hushed crowd and burning spotlight, make each line a memory in an instant. Didn't even care if it was a smash hit, just as long as it was good with a story that could haunt me like footsteps as I'd slip out onto the street after the performance and listen in the laughter and tears and pretend I was in the shadows watching it with them, be really sneaky and see what they thought of the new girl…

Dreams are nice…I did it for real once…even got sent flowers backstage…

But everybody wakes up.

Frakked-up job. Missing girl that nobody knows about, the more names, the bigger and worse it gets, threats, a break-in, and to top it all off, my Boss's hung up on his client, I don't think he knows which way is up anymore. No point even bothering him with the fact we've been working this for free… Normally, I'd hope it all meant a payoff at the end. This case, the one with _Kara Thrace_…

I just hope we make it out of this alive.

I walk up to gleaming glass and finger smudged chrome, out of the heat and into the arctic blast of the mezzanine of the bank where Kara's check says she's got an account. Looks the part of where somebody that has more money than they can burn keeps the rest to be looked after with kit gloves and open pockets, the people that are too happy to find out how to spend your easy earned cash for you, out of sight and out of mind. Exactly the place you'd expect to find dirty money…exactly why I'm here.

I move past the wide spanning curve of shiny green granite, quick on my heels that click on the polished surface. There's a faint fragrance from the few plants inset into the walls, weeping ferns with crazy berry-colored flowers that spill out over the edges. Sorta' like the one out on my fire escape…only lonelier. Pretty though.

_Alright, Maggie…business._

The check's in my bag, folded over once and yellowing. The date's the same as when Mrs. Thrace first saw my Boss about a job, so she probably scribbled it out on the way up to the office. Her signature's loose and free but relaxed, and in the middle in the thing that's off. 10,000 cubits, Ten thousand cubits, and zero change. That's a number most people in their right or even wrong mind couldn't look twice at. My boss isn't most people…my boss is Lee Adama, and he doesn't trust anything, even a good thing if it waltzes right up to him. _Especially a good thing…_

In front of me is a long counter with six stations, three empty, three occupied. First one's an older lady that counting out bills out of sight, she looks tired, on auto-pilot, she just wants to go home. Next window… Second's a new guy, you can always tell cause they keep re-straightening their tie every other blink. But this guy's just getting started. Best shirt, cufflinks, pasted on smile. Ask him a question, his boss is over with a wave asking me why I'm snooping around somebody else's account. Okay, that, and he just winked at me, and sure as frak has no chance. Next window… Young girl, youngest of all of them, but she's not green. Her arms are crossed comfortably in front of her pictures of her boyfriend and her dog, her sweater's the type you throw on around the house that you can wear everywhere. She likes her job, but nothing scares her about it, not her boss or the thought of staying here for the next thirty years. She can walk away anytime she feels like it, but isn't about to blurt out why…

_Third window, here we go._

She looks up, brushing her orange bangs away from her eyes and pushing herself up. "Hi, can I help you?"

"Hi…" I lead in with a smile, always a good idea "My boss received a check the other day from a client who wrote it out in advance, and…it's kinda' big, and he needed me to make sure it was real before we did any work for them. You know how you have to be careful these days."

"Sure…" she responds casually as I reach in my bag and fish the check out with my fingers, unfolding on the black surface of the counter to be picked up by her. Only takes her a glance to notice all the zeros. "Whoa…I can see why you want to make sure. If you don't mind my asking, exactly what do you guys do?"

"Private consulting." I quip in all honestly. It's not evading, just simplifying it…sorta' like being a "businesswoman". No details, but no lie. Best to try and keep what I'm asking about quiet anyway.

"N'kay…well, you guys either do some upscale consulting or the lady's really desperate for some good advice." the girl tells me, hinting at something unspoken as her eyes stay on the signature. _Kara's signature._ "It's real, number checks out as genuine. Ms. Kara Thrace has had an account here for a few years. Remember her personally, in fact. Total legit on her check."

"Guess she writes a lot of those, huh?" I slip in innocently.

"Oh, she's got money. You know…" _Here we go…_She leans forward, checking her left and right and drops her voice to a whisper "I can let you in on some gossip…"

"Just between us girls, got it." I grin back.

Her eyes spark with the words she's already listened to in her head over and over, finally letting it out with a breath "You know Sam Anders?"

"Who doesn't?"

"Who, right?" _I know which team she's been rooting for…_ "He's keeps a lot of his money here…I think she's one of his girlfriends."

"Nooo…really?" _As if I didn't know…_

"Yeah…I mean, I've never seen em' together or anything, but I've seen her signature on a few of his checks, and I know she does art and stuff, so she's not with the team…sooo…"

"She's with him, huh?"

"I'll bet you every cubit in here she is." she nods deviously. Nothing better than girly gossip to get big information. Kara doesn't just run with Sam, he lets her in his wallet, too. She would have been able to find about any debts he had…so why the deal with asking Lee to find out what it was for her? She was too close to Sam not to notice something like a sudden lethal hemorrhaging from his account and overhear clandestine arguments with people like Duck and Tyrol. Uh uh…not on the level.

"_Do your magic, Racetrack…"_ Lee tells me in an echo in my head.

"Since this is between us girls…" I say even quieter, making sure I don't drop the innocent routine "Anything else about Kara I'd find interesting?"

There it is. Her eyes dart from side to side fast, her head props down low and she slips the check back across the counter. "What exactly do you do?" she asks me "I mean…she needed you guys for something important, didn't she?"

"She needed us to find out some things for her, yes." She's got an idea of what this is about, why I'd ask. I think she was expecting it…

"Kay'…you're not the only one to ask about her in the last week." the girl says with a twist to her words that makes her go straight and silent.

"Really…?"

"Yeah…bout' five minutes before we closed for business on Saturday, I answered the phone to a lady that said she was Mrs. Thrace, and wanted a most recent statement on her account, like she wanted to know if it had changed in the last day. She gave me her account confirmation number, and I tell her the balance, she hangs up without saying a word. Only…"

"Only what?"

"Only I know for a fact that wasn't Kara Thrace." the girl behind the counter whispers. "Not her voice."

_And here I thought I'd hit the jackpot before… _"Somebody was pretending to be her?"

"I can only guess… I mean, we get crooks all the time writing fake checks and every other scam in the book, but…" she pauses again, like she already knows but doesn't want to say it for real "I don't think this was a scam. Don't know what it was, but it wasn't a scam job. Thought you might want to hear that. Might help with your "consulting" business." she tells me, almost with a wink.

"It's appreciated…" I wink back, the both of us in on what I'm here for. I fold the check over and bury it back into my handbag.

"Glad to help…" she says, taking a step back, making sure to appear business-like "So I take it you won't be cashing that today…"

"Not today…"

"Okay…could you wait here for just a tic? Got something else I think you could use…" she replies, walking off and through a door to the right. Brushed steel file cabinets stretch up the walls of the small room she enters. A drawer creaks open and a typewriter starts to clack. She thinks I'm a real detective, and I guess I look the part…even if I'm just a real detective's secretary.

A few nervous thoughts drift through my brain about what happens if somebody asks her what's going on. Frak worrying, she's coming back with a clean white paper in her hands. _Nothing to worry about. Knew I picked the right window._

"Un'kay…" she begins straight and casual, the kind of innocent act I wish I could pull off "You didn't get this from me. Just thought it could help." She hands it to me and I glance down, see the numbers and feel surprised that pure gold feels so light. "Sure it will." I reply, folding it triple out of sight and putting it in with the check.

"She's in trouble, isn't she?" the girl asks, personal now, concerned.

_How the frak do I answer that?_ I breathe in and out with a smooth sigh, look back up at her "Somebody is. Thanks for the help."

* * *

Out on the street I can relax, feel the sun on my skin swim in my thoughts. Lee should be over at Duck's place right now. Something's wrong with all of this. I don't know what, but it's whirling around Kara Thrace like waves in a maelstrom, pulling Lee in deeper and deeper. He's going with the undercurrent, faster and faster, chasing the little girl, chasing his demons…chasing after Kara. I look up overhead at the clock on the side of the Coronis building; watch the long black hands slowly orbit within their spiraling stained glass setting lit aflame in the low afternoon sun. 3:33… Go back home, wait for Lee to call about what he's found out. If it's as frakked-up as what I just got a hold of, he's really in trouble. I think he's liking this. He's alive, in the moment, going full throttle for the first time in a long while. He likes trouble...likes Kara. No surprise…

"Hey Mags. What's goin' on?" says a voice from behind me, low and playful. Never thought I'd run into him here…

I turn around and see him, tall and confident in deep blue, short sandy brown hair and broad shoulders. And that grin…oh Lords, so cute… "Hello Noel. Fancy seeing you here."

"Nice surprise." he replies lit up "Just working the street in this neighborhood this afternoon with a nugget. Showin' her the ropes. You?"

"Working." I say, feeling the weight of my handbag on my shoulder start to dig into my skin. Perfect opportunity to let him in on the case, but not yet. I still feel guilty about the whole idea…even if it's a good idea.

"On a case, huh? Track down any bad guys today?" He knows I work cases for Lee, I told him as much on out date.

"Still looking." I can't help but smile back "So they've got you teaching police courses for a change?"

"Heh…I wish. Everybody's been shuffled around in deployment cause of the Pyramid championship, and now the union's threatening to strike, so everybody's on their toes. Bound to all frak up royal if that happens."

"Bet you wish you picked a different job, huh?" I jab at him.

"Nah...I like being a cop. Makes me feel like I can actually do something, you know? Really help people… Plus, the idea of free coffee all over the city's a good throw in."

"I'll bet." My lips curl to a wide smile as a faint giggle escapes me "I really enjoyed the other night, Noel. I meant it when I said I'd like to do it again."

"So did I." he grins back with a snap "How bout' tonight? Catch a movie, get some popcorn, whaddya' say?"

"Oh, I'd love to, but…" Gods, I wish I could say yes… "I've gotta' wait for a phone call from my boss at home. He's on a case. No idea when he'll call, I just know it'll be after 5."

"Aw... Tomorrow then?" he asks all excited like a lonely puppy. _I love persistence in a man…_

"I'll shoot for it…" I'm practically staring at him, same as he's doing to me. _Like I could complain…_"Catch any bad guys today?"

"Caught an earful from the trainee nugget…" he roughly replies, letting his eyes roll.

"Well I'm sure you're a good teacher."

"Yes I am." he proudly retorts, standing tall like he's on top of the frakkin' world. _Adorable… "_You know if you ever need help with anything, Mags, let me know. I'd be glad to see what I can do."

"Thanks…" So I can tell him tomorrow…I hope. "You remember I work for Lee Adama, right?"

"Hey, a lot of guys on the force think that was good thing that he did…" he defends "Best of a frakked up situation, but… Some cops never liked the idea of being told how to do their jobs and shut up about what they knew. Whether they'll admit it or not. Your boss might have been a pain in the ass for the D.A., but it took guts to stand up to them after what happened. Some guys think that counts for something."

_Maybe I can tell him… _

"Hey Narcho, we got another call in!" yells the young cop from inside his parked squad car on the other side of the street. "That would be my new partner Kat, and that would mean I've gotta' be off." Noel tells me.

""Narcho?" What kind of a name is that?" I snicker out loud at him.

"That's my cop name. I'm Narcho, she's Kat. Everybody's got one." he instantly replies "And they don't have to make sense. What's that your boss, Lee calls you, "Racetrack"?" Noel giggles at me.

"Yeah, I'm Racetrack…and that's a long story. I'll save it for you for tomorrow."

"Alright…" he grins back at me with his sexy tough guy smile, "See ya' tomorrow, Racetrack."

"Um…" I bite down on my bottom lip and cringe "That's what Lee calls me…at work." I don't know why it felt uncomfortable, awkward…only know it does. "You call me Mags. I love it, I think it' so cute…Narcho."

He takes my teasing with a smirk and my right hand in his, lifting it close to his face and gently kisses my skin. "See ya' Mags." he breathes, locking his eyes into mine. He lets go and runs to the car, leaving me floating over the sidewalk. The only thing that holds me down is the bag hanging on my shoulder…and the information about Mrs. Thrace…the stuff I've gotta' get to Lee.

Before he really gets in trouble.

Before it's too late…

* * *

It's half after 6, and the light's starting to dim in the sky. A warm breeze blows in through the windows and swirls through my apartment. I'm picking over what's left of my dinner and listening to somebody's radio from across the canyon of brick and steel outside. Lance curls up to my feet, tangling his fuzzy tail between me and the couch. The clean white printout's laid flat in front of me, torturing my imagination with its story over and over again in my mind, the story I have to get to Lee.

_Lee, get to a phone…_

The evening's quiet and warm, wrapping me in the twilight of the approaching night like a blanket, but nothing about it's easing my mind. He's out there following what he thinks is complicated but straightforward, following the leads where they end and connect. Out alone, out with his demons and his memories driving him on…he can't know about this…

_Godsdamn it, Lee…come on…_

The phone rings.

I scoop it up fast and here him asking for me on the other end. "Lee! What's going on?"

"Talked with Duck…we've got a real story from him."

"We've got more than that, Lee." I tell him flat "I found out something you have to know right now."


	35. Iced Tea on a Hot Afternoon

Second floor, second door to the right from the rusting stairwell

Second floor, second door to the right from the rusting stairwell. Duck's apartment building's colored in faded wood paneling and yellowing stains overhead from smoke. The cracks in the walls run through the hallway like tangled cobwebs. Place probably freezes in winter, cooks in the summer. Starter apartment, somewhere you try and move out of if you don't want to die in your sleep. He's got a wife, only been married about a year. No way Duck wants to stay here, start a family in this rat hole. He wants out. I'm willing to bet he doesn't want to risk that future over whatever mess he's involved with over Sam.

He'll tell me what he knows…he's got no other options.

I knock on the door of his place. He won't be home yet, the 5 o'clock whistle just wailed through the street about 15 minutes ago, and it's a 20 minute fight through traffic from where he works on a slow day. But his wife might be here, might even know a few things herself. That…and any good detective knows it's a good idea to be the first one to welcome a guy home when he knows something you want to hear. Good incentive to strike up a conversation…

My knuckles tap against the splintering white paint of the door. Behind it I hear footsteps, light and quick. Must be the wife…Nora…

"Wait up…" she says over the sounds of a motley assortment of locks popping open. The door creaks open and the smell of spices wafts around me. Her blonde hair's tangled with white streaks of flour into a wild bun behind her head. Same with the apron tied around her waste, the fading green dress she's in, and even her slippers. Flour streaks everywhere… She smiles politely with an inquisitive stance "Can I help you, Mr.…?"

"Adama. Lee Adama. And you might be able to… Duck's not around is he?"

"No he's not, should be back home in about a bit. I told him to hurry home today." she spies a quick over her shoulder at steaming pots and pans on the oven "Makin' his favorite tonight."

"I'm sure he'll appreciate it." I smile. Always helps to smile.

"How do you know Duck, exactly, Mr. Adama?" she finally asks.

"I have some important business with him that can't wait."

Her brow sharpens to an icy glare "If he owes you anything over a triad game, I'm gonna' have to ask you to leave."

"It's not over cards, I can promise you."

"Great. You like lukewarm iced tea, Mr. Adama? Fridge has been frakking up all week."

"Love it."

"Two good answers in a row." she glints "You can wait inside, Mr. Lee Adama."

* * *

She doesn't pay the slightest attention to me as she's cooking, darting from side to side of their tiny kitchen, as I sip down the warm, minty tea and shift on broken couch springs stabbing into me. I look down at my watch and start to wonder if he's coming back anytime before dark. _Forget the frakking watch, Lee, he's coming…_

My eye glances to a set of photographs illuminated in soft pastels on an old shelf beside the wall, full of faces and poses. One sitting proud in the center catches my eye. I recognize both the smiling, happy people in it, colorized in a gentle glow to look that much more worthy of being a memory. "Nice pictures." I remark offhand; she halts for a moment to look over toward them.

"You're welcome. Nice ones of our wedding day." she sighs, her voice tingling "We didn't have that much money, but…Duck made sure I got the dress I wanted. Nothing fancy, but it sure was pretty. Those pictures don't do that day justice."

"Duck sounds like a nice guy." I reply, waiting for any sign of problems or mistrust between them and hearing none of it. Not from her, at least…

"Like nobody else in this world, Mr. Adama." she quickly responds, turning back around to get on task again. I feel like I'm staring at the photo…not at it, into it, losing myself in it. Not so much who's in it, but what it is. Genuine…real. He loves her. She loves him. More than they have to, more than either of them could make sense of or define. I'm looking at all the photos in my closet, stored away under old junk and thick dust. In the dark…not out in the glow of light like this, like theirs, like the two of them couldn't bear to miss it a single time they pass it by. I haven't looked at my wedding photos in years.

_Wish it was frakking never…_

_Business, Lee…_

"Duck like his job?" I ask her nonchalantly.

"That why you're here?" she responds in the blink of an eye, like she was ready for it.

"Would that be a problem?" I play back.

"Only if he doesn't, Mr. Adama. Who are you asking for?" She means it now. Same question everybody that worked with Duck threw at me…who am I asking for?

"_Yeah, you didn't think you were the first to come check up on my guys, did ya'?"_ Samantha Pollux asked me back when I first found him, _"Or are you workin' for somebody else?"_

It's not just an on the job worry for these people…it's everybody… It all spells itself out clear and concrete…big. One big, frakking…something…

"I don't work for the city, or the union, Mrs. McClellan. I'm a private investigator, and I need to speak with your husband about some things that happened a long time ago before he ever had his job. Duck might know some things that can help some people out. If you don't mind my asking, why would it be a problem if he didn't like his job?"

She turns around and glares into me. "Could've told me that at the door, ya' know."

"I do now." I reply, letting the muscles in my sides relax as I breathe out relief, watching her glare mellow away.

"Yeah…" she starts up, resting her weight on her back turned wrists and looking around the room "Things are tough for us…well…everybody. The union wants a strike for more leverage at city hall, but anybody with half a brain knows they'll layoff half of em' the moment the first protester shows up in front of Baltar's office. So they tell us not to worry, that they'll look after everybody… Couple of em' were by the other day, told me they'd take special care of us cause of Duck." She shifts and bites down on a scowl "Frak…like I'd want _their _help."

"That'd be a problem?" I ask her curiously. It's not that she doesn't believe they would…she doesn't want Duck taking what they'd offer… Which is what?

The doorknob spins and creaks, front door opens. There's our friend…

"Hey baby, I'm…" he takes a stride in and sees me in his apartment, on his couch, talking to his wife… "…home…"

* * *

"What the frak are you doin' here?" Duck glares blank-faced at me, still half in the door and half out the in the hall. He's in a clean, holding a beat up lunch box and decked out it wrinkled green khaki pants and a fresh gray shirt under an old, beat-up matching green shirt he's wearing for a jacket. Nobody that works as a knuckledragger likes to bring their work home with them, especially if they want to stay married long enough to get in the door. Duck's a good guy, so he knows the drill; even packed his own change of clothes himself.

_Wives never pack wrinkled clothes to wear later…_

"Hey babe, nice day?" Nora politely cuts in, cutting a quick glance over to me to think of something to say…fast.

"Usual…what's he doin' here?" Duck snaps back, watching me like he expects me to bolt.

"This is Mr. Lee A…"

"Adama." he stares down at me "Yeah, I know who he is, what's he doin' here?"

"He told me you'd know." she stands up to him, turning again at me "Isn't that right, Mr. Adama?"

_My turn to jump in…_ "Forget to call me, Duck, or did you lose my card?" I ask him, pushing myself onto my feet to face him straight on.

"I didn't forget anything, that's why I didn't call. Thought you said call you if you remember anything…" he smarts off at me. I don't know if it's because it's all going on in front of Nora, or just that he hates the idea I'm being so frakking persistent.

"I didn't say anything about dropping back in on you if I found out something new." I reply with a wry grin, knowing it won't make a frak's difference how I say it; he's pissed off either way.

He finally places his left foot onto the floor inside and lays his scrapped up yellow lunchbox at his feet. He looks at me for the longest three seconds and takes in a long, slow smoker's breath, roughly clearing out his throat without blinking once. "Mind telling me about that out in the hall?"

They've got secrets between them. There's love and trust, but something else, something the both of them are pretending they don't know about. Racetrack was on to more than she even realized…

"_I think he never told anyone else about what happened. You told me he had a tell, that you could see he knew about Sam…well he knows a lot more than that, and the guy you described to me was a cool customer if there ever was one, but he was scared, and I don't think it was of you… Give him an out, Lee. Give him a chance to make good. Push him." _

He's been keeping his business with Tyrol and more than likely Zarek to himself as much as he can, only he's got one problem…one reason why there's doubt and double guessing clouding his resolve… He loves her.

"_Do your magic, Boss._"

"Let's do." I tell him, finishing off the last of my tea and placing it back onto the table in front of me "Thanks again Mrs. McClellan."

"Welcome." She smiles curtly, keeping her eyes trained on her husband. "Nice talking with you, Mr. Adama." Nora finishes, saying it like she knows I'm not coming back. Almost wish Duck hadn't gotten back when he did…guess I'll have to get all my answers from him.


	36. Fated Justice

I step back out into the hallway feeling a rush of air from the McClellans' front door shutting behind me with a jolt

I step back out into the hallway feeling a rush of air from the McClellans' front door shutting behind me with a jolt. The dusty wood under my souls creaks as Duck stares into me, tough guy and triad player all in one. "Let's get one thing straight, Mr. Adama." he tells me in a silenced roar "You don't talk to my wife, got it?"

"Don't talk to her, or don't get her involved?" I snap back at him, standing up to him. He's in close to try and threaten me, but I don't see a gun.

"That doesn't matter!"

"Matter's to you, I think…no…I know."

"I didn't call you back, because I've got nothing to say." he fights, his words coming out fast and clipped in the air.

"_Do your magic, Boss._" I push my feet firm onto the ground and tense up "That doesn't change the fact that you know something about Sam Anders…"

"I already told you, I _don't _know anything about…"

"…and Chief Tyrol..."

"What, it's a crime to work for my boss?" he tries to shake me with a caustic smirk.

"…and before that, Tom Zarek." I let the name's weight fall into him…he's still got the smirk, still got the cocky air, but nothing to fall back on. Got him…

"What the frak would I have to do with Tom Zarek? Guy's been a jailbird for years."

"He wasn't always…" I remind him, watching the wheels in his memory start to turn on him "Zarek used to be on top of the world in this town, used to run the Workers' Union…used to run a lot of things…"

"So what?"

"So, you used to work for him, Duck. _Remember?_"

He takes a step back, lets down his heavy guard and traces the floor with his gaze. So I still don't know what the frak this has to do with finding Kacey, or why…only that it does. It is connected. Every frakking bit of it.

"You said you're a private detective, right, Mr. Adama?" he finally asks, looking right at me again.

"That's right."

"You're not a cop."

"No."

"Work with the cops?"

"No."

"Okay…" Duck looks at me with a wide stare, ready to play his last hand "Then I've got nothing to say. _Nothing._"

"Can I use your phone then?" I ask him, throwing him off guard.

"Why the frak do you think…?"

"I just need to call up a friend of mine who _is_ in the police," I tell him "let him know I've got the guy that kidnapped that little girl I showed you in that picture. Might even drop a few of your boss's names while I'm at it. They like to have fun interrogating guys that pull that kind of crap…"

"You've got nothing…" he says, my hand reaches out for the knob on his front door.

"Cut the crap, Duck! What did you do for Zarek?!"

"I just drove him around, barely ever talked to the guy!" He loses it, clinching his fists to a tight ghostly white; the veins pulsing in his neck.

"What did the police question you about that one night?" I push.

"What night?"

"Duck, it's way too late to play dumb now…" I chide him.

"One time, big deal…"

"Must've been important to them…"

"I didn't have anything to do with that…"

_Godsdamn it, I don't have time for this…_ "With what?!"

"_**Zak Adama!**_ Okay?! They kept asking me about some cop named Zak Adama!"

_Holy…fraaa… __**Frak me…**_

_Take it in, Lee…just breathe; push it down, tense up, keep it together…don't… Frak… __**Romo Lampkin**__…he knows…always frakking has… _

"What did he…?" I start to ask, hoping to hell my feet are still planted on the floor. _Frak, Lee, business._ "Why were they asking you about Zak Adama?"

"Told me they wanted a confession. Wanted me to say I saw him and Tom talking together earlier that week."

"About what?" I bore, fiercely trying to keep my voice from falling into a growl.

"Frak if I knew… They just wanted the two of them in the same room at the same time…shoved this paper in my face over and over again that had some frakked up story about this Adama guy taking an envelope full of cash from Tom, some kind of payoff…"

"Why didn't you sign it?" I breathe out, still disbelieving where this is turning.

He takes a look at me in the dim hallway and smirks that gambler's smile again "I didn't like the way they were talkin' to me. Seemed like a good enough reason…"

"That's not good enough…or an honest answer." I throw back to him, now feeling my stomach start to burn and twist.

"You're not a cop?" he asks me again.

"You're just talking to me." I reply.

"Adama's not a…common name…kinda' well known…" he drifts.

"Yeah it is…"

"Knew him?" Duck asks.

"My brother." I state flatly "Was…"

"Frak, man… I remember you now, what hap… Hey, I'm…" he searches clumsily. He had to have known who I was, expected this…wanted to talk, alright… "Sorry." He says it with guilt and pity, and I've got enough for anybody already.

"I'm not here to talk to you about that." I say, angry and filled with bile at him for what he knows, what he's in, frak if he gets it or not.

"I didn't just drive for Tom Zarek, I… I worked for him, yeah." Duck admits, watching his shoes once more "Let's just say, I made sure people got their fair share."

"What'd you do, Duck, enforcer? Wheelman?"

"Graduated to wheelman but never did it for real. No, me, I sat in on triad games…" he grins, the type of grin when you're still proud of frakking over the world and getting away with it "I didn't cheat people, if that's what you're thinking…didn't have to."

"He had you sit in on games, keep an eye on everybody, right?" I finish for him.

"Somethin' like that…if they played by the rules, no problem…if they didn't…wasn't _my_ problem."

A card shark that worked for criminals to make sure nobody cheated at illegal games…real frakked up sense of morality on this guy. "Seems like they could've booked you on that, held that confession out in front of you as a carrot." I add.

"Think I didn't know that? Yeah, I was scared." he shifts, looking around the deserted hallway with frenzied eyes "I'd just met…I was trying to go straight before I actually did frak up." He looks back at the closed door, through it…

"Nora…" I reply quietly, knowingly.

"Yeah. Ever love somebody Mr. Adama? So much that you wanted to be who that person wanted you to be instead of who you were?" he asks me. I catch him reaching his right hand to his left, raking his fingers around his ring finger.

_Always wanted to…_ "I think I do." Is all I say to him…all I can…

"Then you know why I didn't say anything." he replies. "No way in hell was I gonna' put her through that. I don't regret staying out of that circus…sorry you got caught in it, but that wasn't my life. _Our life._"

"Why do you think the police were trying to dirty Zak's name by having him take money from Zarek?"

"Who said it was the police, Mr. Adama?" he asks me back. _What?_

"That's what the report said…"

"Well that report didn't tell you frak." Duck snaps "Yeah, the police took me in, told me it was a traffic violation or some crap like that. I'm sitting out with everybody else and two guys come in, real fancy looking suits, and talk to one of the officers at the desk. Next thing I know, I'm in a room under the lights for the next nine hours having the two suits practice "good cop/bad cop" on me. After I ticked em' off enough, they must've finally gotten tired or something, one of the uniform guys comes in, tells me I'm clear and I'm out on the street like nothin' happened. I don't know who the frak the suits were, but they didn't work there, didn't show me a badge, nothin…"

Okay…that's a detail… See if you can get another, Lee… "Wouldn't happen to remember what they looked like?"

"I was…a little bit loaded that night, I'll confess that to you…" he grins "Might've been right about that traffic violation…"

"You can tell your priest." I smirk back "Details."

"Only a couple…one guy, real smooth operator, talked all friendly when he wasn't pushing my face into the table…walked funny…kinda'…I don't know, just funny."

"And the other guy?"

"Him I didn't forget at all…really weird guy… All smiles and glares… Rough guy, talked all quiet and off…blonde guy. Scary glare on that guy…happy not to run into him again…"

"I'm sure you are…" I tell him…got a good feeling who he's talking about… Save that for another day…_Kacey…_ "So if you dodged the bullet back then, why work for Tom's successor?"

"Chief?" he remarks, seeming taken a back and surprised "Whatever you've read about him, Chief isn't into anything like Tom used to be. He's straight as an arrow. Good guy."

"Your wife didn't seem to think so…"

"Well she's just…worried is all." Duck smiles innocently as a kid under a busted window holding a slingshot behind his back "I need the work. So what if I lug trash around all day? Anything's better than sharking games to put food on the table."

"I'd imagine so…" I nod back. I've hit that nerve with him all over again, that point where he gets all quiet and stares at me "So no idea why Tyrol called in personally for you to get a job on one of his crews?"

"No idea…"

"You like your job, Duck?"

"What kind of question is that?" he replies.

"It's one your wife thought I was here to ask you when she thought I was from the Union…or the city." I tell him "Mind filling me in on which one it is?"

"This stays between you and me." he points with his outstretched right index finger.

"Absolutely."

"The strike's gonna' happen no matter what happens in negotiations." He admits to me with a stunted wariness to his voice "Chief's got something big planned and he's been making sure there's solidarity in the ranks before it goes down."

"That's gonna' piss off the city…"

"Already has…" he replies under his breath "Word is, somebody talked to Baltar personally to warn him, now everybody's been getting "friendly visits"…there's enough suspicion to go around for everybody right now… It's not gonna' go very well for whoever squealed. Hope that answers why I'm not that happy for some new face to be hanging around my house, Mr. Adama."

"I think it does." _Hit him, Lee…_ "Where's Sam, Duck?" I grin.

He shoves his hands into his pockets and almost winces "You're not gonna' give this up, are you?"

"Not for _her._" I tell him sharply. He knows who I mean… "You don't want to be mixed up in this mess, Duck. You've got a good wife, a future…don't throw it away so somebody can frak up some little girl's."

"I'd never do something like that, what kind of sick frak do you take me for?!"

"I'll take you for a dumb frak if you don't help me find her and Sam!" I shout out, frak if anybody hears. All the more weight on him if everybody does.

Duck tenses up and sniffs the air in a violent gasp, acts like he's gonna' walk right through me and…slumps back to the wall. He closes his eyes, breathes in and out slow and heavy… You want to tell me, Duck…come on… Here's your out…

"Somebody might've overheard something about visiting Sam in town…"

"That's it?" I pry; aggravated at the crap I'm being dragged through just to get here.

"Last week…" Duck admits, looking up at me with a wink.

"Where?"

"Sag town...Monarch building…said he was being "looked after"…heard somebody else say he'd be "taken care of" if anything went wrong. At least that's what _somebody_ heard."

_Gods…_ "Did _somebody_ hear anything about a little blonde girl?" I inquire. _Come on…please…_

"Nothin'…sorry." he breathes out in a single whisper. I stand there in the creaking hallway, listening to traffic and kids playing in the street below. It's always the sounds that get me, all the laughing and screeching in crazy abandon, free of responsibility and worry and reality. I don't believe in the Gods, never got one reason to want to even if they are out there…even if I wished there was something else I could trust in. But it's just me. Me and this frakked up world…

"Thanks anyway…" I tell him, feeling my heart ripping away to the floor.

"You know…" he says, turning on his heels, and fiddling his fingers in his pockets "I hear stuff all the time…and I've still got your card."

"Good." I nod back. He's afraid he'll get found out, no reason to say it so vague. So what if he's in with Chief, it's not my problem, not my fight… It's not fair… Only sliver of a lead I've ever gotten on what might've been going on with Zak, and it happens now… I can't… I can't get her killed over his grave…no matter how much it hurts. I owe Kacey more than that…_owe Kara…_

Good enough, I figure. Best I could've hoped for… I step forward and tell him "Thanks." Again, start to make my way over the dusty wood floor and towards the stairs. There's just one thing that bothers me… I stop and turn around. "You didn't sign that confession back then. But…"

"Did I really see your brother take a payoff from Tom?" he finishes for me. He pushes off the wall with his arms and cocks his head "I've gotta' get inside, Mr. Adama…we've got a couple tickets to tonight's game. Really want to see the C-Bucs win this one."

"I'm sure you do." I acknowledge with a final nod. I'm after a Pyramid player, and I couldn't give a frak about the game right now…even if they are on the verge of clinching the championship. He saw something back then, knows something. Only it still matters after all this time…Sam he can let me in on, but that… Why the frak would it still…? Maybe all those stories about fate mocking mortals had something to them…maybe they've just got it in for me. Romo was telling me something back there; back at his beloved frakked up statue…justice has to win out before fate steps in.

Only who's justice?

The McClellans' door shuts once more behind me as I start down the stairs… I've gotta' find a payphone to get in touch with Racetrack…just my luck the one outside his building's been ripped out Gods' know how long ago… No real problem…not like she's gonna' be in that big a hurry for me to call her back…

* * *

I finally get to a phone on a street corner glowing gold in the fading sun. A truck speeds by me rocking like a freight train. My stomach's empty and still twisting inside out over what I just heard. There's only so much frakked up news I can take in a day, and I've already had a bellyful. I've got a bead on Sam, though…Kacey can't be that far off. I step inside the box and drop a cubit in the slot and pick up the clunky black plastic receiver. It rings once, Racetrack picks it up.

"Lee! What's going on?" Maggie exclaims over the speaker…frak, she almost sounds…

"Talked with Duck…we've got a real story from him." I tell her, picking up the faint sound of her pulse through her breathing.

"We've got more than that, Lee." she tells me flat "I found out something you have to know right now."

* * *

Uptown, the Demetrius Hotel. I look down at a crisp, cloud gray hexagonal card with black script in the palm of my hand with a number on it. I move along the walkway overstretching the deep canyon of rooms below twinkling in twilight smoky amber. Rustling air and hanging vines spiral up from the ground hundreds of feet below and swirl up into black space above. Modern's one word to describe it, all glass and organic concrete forms. It looks somewhere between being inside a seashell and looking down the length of a bird's feather. I get to the edge and start counting room numbers, estimating how many before I get to where I'm going. Doesn't take long…good thing. I'm not in the mood to wait.

I walk up to room 3312 and punch the buzzer, listen to it blare on the inside. I hear footsteps hurry up to the door and sense the weight of a body leaning up against the peephole on the other end.

The locks slide out. The door opens wide.

She's in silky black, smooth like smoke and hot like fire. She stands there barefoot with burning green eyes and full lips and secrets too deep so deep it all goes black as I peer over the edge. I know one of her secrets now, though...

"Lee?" Kara quips with an arched brow, part surprise and part expecting me sooner "What's up?"

No games this time…this is serious… _Business, Lee._

"I think you might know, Kara. We've gotta' talk."


	37. Unexpectedly Kara

"Well don't just stand out there in the lobby making eyes at me, Lee, come in." Kara teases so confident and full of flame. Wish I was in the mood…

"That's what I had in mind."

She casts a final mysterious gaze at me before turning back into her room, obliging me after her. I move off of the freshly vacuumed carpet and follow the swaying silk of her dress and the faint, heavy cinnamon scent of her perfume inside. Her place…_hers and Sam's place_…is just what you'd expect, a luxurious suit with all the furnishings, edgy design in toned down cream and metallic, not a cubit spared on even the matchbooks on the tables. The walls of the living room area are splashed with a rose tinted glow, offsetting the deep purple expanse visible outside through the wrap-around windows that open out onto a wide terrace outside. All the shades are pulled back as far as they'll go. On the outside the world sparkles with neon stars and smoky orange and gold streets stretching off into the horizon; on the inside, Kara slips through the sepia colored air in shifting black, moving against the reflecting sparks of far off lights like stars in the night sky bleeding through the clouds on a dreary night; her blonde hair gleaming platinum like the moon on fire. She almost twirls on her feet, floating like an autumn leaf into a deep red satin lined chair. She's still watching me with those fiery emerald eyes, searching for Gods' know what "Why don't you have a seat and tell me what happened, Lee?"

I step around to the front of another seat facing it and eye for a moment, not so sure whether I want to get comfortable here or not. My gaze catches a slit in a door to my left, and the foot of a bed in cool evening light, white sheets hanging over the edge and hastily thrown off heels on the floor. _Business, Lee…_

I let myself slump into the chair and sink into the smooth cushions, listen to myself pull in a groaning breath before I lock eyes with Kara. "Why don't you tell me why you're trying to pay me off, Kara?"

Here eyes flash for the briefest of moments, like she's blinking away hot smoke. She wrestles her body to stay still, not give anything more away, but she can't keep her lips from quivering in my sight "What are you talking about?"

"You tell me."

"Lee, I'm not playing you, if that's what you're thinking…"

My fingers start to clench in tight; I can feel the blood start to pulse under my skin "Who is?"

"Lee, I don't know what you're talking about." she tells me slow and deliberate.

"The separate account that you opened up for 10,000 cubits the day before you came to see me. The check that you gave me the very next day to consider your offer for the same amount? The same account that somebody other than you has been checking on to see if I took the bait?" I reply, letting her hear the words and try and to respond. There it is…only not the look I expected. It's not a "game's up" look, or the usual darting for a diversion. I've only seen that look on her once before…never will forget it; the same face that's looking into me right now.

The same face she made when I first asked her about Leoben…

"You never did take the money, did you?" she asks, worried…worried for me.

"No."

"I knew you were a good detective." Kara breathes out in relief "Didn't think you were that good."

"Well I've got help." I tell her, faintly letting a smile creep onto my face. _Thanks, Racetrack… _

"Somebody told me to go to you. Told me to tell you about how they'd taken Kacey, and pay you the check in advance. Guess they were hoping you wouldn't think twice about taking it."

"So that part _is_ true?" I ask her in all seriousness "She is in trouble?"

"That part is true, _yes_, Lee." her eyes nearly ache with hurt.

"Why didn't you tell me what was going on before?"

"They said that they'd hurt her if I didn't get you to take the case…"

"Who said she would?"

"I don't know."

"Why me? Why did they tell you to go to me?"

"They never said…"

"How? How did they ask you to go to me?" I'm starting to tense up, feel my words race with my thoughts…there's one other thing… "How long have you known what's really been going on?"

Her head pulls back defensively, her jaw grinds slightly "I still don't know what this is, Lee, you can believe me."

"I _want_ to believe you." I let out under my breath, piercing her with a glare.

"Sam and Kacey disappeared; I couldn't get a hold of Sam no matter where I called. And like I told you, I worked out it was over Sam being in trouble with Chief, and he took Kacey with him to try and protect her and me…" Kara starts to trail off, reliving what she's been going through all this time, everything I wish she would just come out and tell me "And then I got a call." She goes still and almost shivers like there's a chill hissing past her.

"The day before I first saw you, I was at our place in Delphi…I got a call from a woman that said I had to do something. I told her to tell me what she was talking about or frak off…she asked me how Kacey was. I got the message. And I swear to you, I have no idea who it was; I've never heard her voice before except over the phone."

"What did she ask you to do?" My mind darts back to Racetrack telling me about a mystery woman calling the bank about Kara's "special" account…

"Told me to go out to the mailbox at the front drive. Said I had a "special delivery", and if I didn't do what I was told, I could…" Kara's near silent tone breaks momentarily, the monotonous words halting without warning; starting up again perfectly matter-of-fact, "…that I could imagine for myself what could happen to _her_…and then she hung up. Nobody would've seen it get dropped off, Sam's place is up in the mountains, there's nobody out there but us. Only private spot he's got, really… At the bottom of the drive, right by the road, there was an old cardboard box somebody had left…there was a note with a phone number on it, and 10,000 cubits in random bills, 20's, 50's, 100's… I went back in the house and called the number…payphone by the train station in Delphi…it was _her_ again. The same woman. She said I had to take it to my bank, create a new account, and then write out that amount for a check…made out to a private detective named Lee Adama in Caprica City. You."

I'm running everything through my head, not seeing any of it make one frakking ounce of sense. "And that didn't scream _blackmail_ to you?" I ask her with loose hands and a bewildered glare "Why didn't you go to the police and tell them you had proof _I_ was involved in your daughter's disappearance?"

"Something didn't seem right about it…but that's not why I kept quiet. I was afraid for her, yes, afraid for Sam…I wasn't going to risk calling the police; I would've walked straight into frakking Hades if that's what I had to do to see Kacey safe again. Frak over anybody, even myself…even you. Only when I walked in your office you were…"

She stops, her rosy lips quivering with what I'd swear in anybody else was fear…I don't what the frak you'd call it when Kara Thrace looks at you like that.

"I wasn't what you expected." I finish for her softly, feeling my chest rise and fall with the beat of her own heart.

Her stern disposition melts away before my eyes "No. You aren't."

"It has been a set up…" I blurt out mostly for myself "The whole frakking time."

"For both of us." Kara finishes for me, her voice less than whisper. Her head drops to the floor and her fingers start to twitch like she's just out of reach of piano keys sitting silent and waiting for the first notes. "Lee, I'm…" she says, almost a whimper now. I meet Kara's gaze on the way up, green orbs wide and burning; her bottom lip throbbing red as she releases it from between clinched teeth "I wanted to tell you."

My jaw grinds as I try and hide my face behind my hands scraping over my hair. I'm angry…only wish I knew at who, why…frak. Kara had a reason to get me into this…a frakking good one…

"You did it for her…I get it."

She flinches…_actually flinches_ at my response stinging her skin "You've got her picture, Lee. Wouldn't you?"

She hits me like a piercing bullet, another kill shot into my chest…anything but the absolute truth would be a lie…she knows the answer. I want to believe her…want to trust her… Either way, I'm still here.

"So how did they make sure you went through with it?"

Her skin pebbles and the muscles in her face tense up, no question about it this time…real fear. "They followed me there. Or at least one of em' did… I parked outside your building, got out and was walking down the street when this guy bumped into me on the sidewalk. I got ready to tell him to watch where he was frakking going and he told me she was pretty and that if I…" Kara takes in a deep breath, long and rushed "…if I didn't give you the check and get you on the case, then I'd have to live with…_**FRAK**_… It was him. The guy that Hotdog told you about…"

_So that's why…_ "The same guy that visited me this afternoon right after you dropped me off at my office." I tell her.

"He what?!"

"He was your guy, alright. His name's Leoben Conoy…he's a cop…Internal Affairs. Or at least that's what the story he had made up for me. Made up some story about you being involved with some secret investigation the police didn't want me involved in. Tried to scare me into telling him everything you told me…and where you were."

"What did you tell him?"

"I don't like to get frakked around. You're safe, Kara."

"Well that makes two of us. Thanks…" she replies grinning slightly.

"You've been hiding from them?"

"Just bouncing around the last couple days now that you're on the case." her grin widens, self satisfied "Wouldn't call it hiding so much as staying quiet and close to you…"

"Well you've got them looking for you now and asking me questions, so I don't think either of us is what you'd call safer…especially now that they suspect you told me more than you were supposed to."

"How would they know that?"

"I don't think they do, but they aren't taking that chance." I keep using "they" like it actually means something…so far all I've got is one shadowy cop and a mysterious woman's voice over the phone…with no clue who sent me the envelope full of photos, or any idea why Zarek would risk sending two idiots to break into my office…and even then, I've got this feeling like I can't be sure about that either… "Whatever this is really about, they don't want us working on the same puzzle, only scrounging after the pieces they throw at us."

"You're thinking my daughter and Sam getting kidnapped isn't all there is to this?" she asks me "So what the frak are you thinking, Lee?"

She's still keeping enough secrets from me to keep me guessing forever…I don't know how much longer I can keep mine from her. If it is all going back to me like Romo warned me, the less I tell her the better, the safer she is…

An awkward pause and blank stare from me perks her attention even more. "Just that I think is a hell of a lot bigger than a kidnapping."

"You want to tell me how long you've been working that angle?" Kara glares…no fooling her. _Never is…_

"Long enough to know we've gotta' play this safe or somebody's gonna' end up frakked if we don't work together on this." I look away from her for a fleeting moment that freezes in time and the sparkling glow of the night outside. So it's been a trap all along…so what if what I'm thinking about is just gonna' get me in that much deeper…it's that much closer to some answers…maybe even the ones I've been after ever since my old life got frakked over forever…

_I just want an answer. _

_I don't care from where anymore._

_I know what I have to do…_

I look up at Kara "Pyramid game's just starting, right?"

"Yea…what?"

"Everybody's gonna' be listening in on it." I tell her, back to business, back to the case "Which means we just might have a chance to get Sam out safe and have a real card to play in getting your daughter back safe."

She finally loses it "Lee, what in the frak are you talking about?!"

"I talked to Sam's buddy Duck this afternoon. He told me where they've been holding him…" I explain to her "…and a lot of other things. I'll tell you on the way there."

"Where?"

"Sag town, the old Monarch building."

She gleams platinum moon rays against the dark expanse, all curves and sass, all secrets and mystery…only Kara Thrace. "I'll get my purse."


End file.
